Hallowed Ground
by Jilsen
Summary: Callie is on special assignment. She hopes to find out what happened to missing teen, Elizabeth Lancaster. Elizabeth disappeared 15 years ago. Can Callie and Frank solve the mystery? COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I do not own the HB characters and I am not making any money from this story._

_A/N: This story takes place ten months after my story "The Christmas Star." It is set in the Frank/Callie universe I created in that story. This is not the F/N story I promised. I am still working on that one._

* * *

Chapter One

Ten month old Eva was a dark-haired baby with bright blue eyes and a sunny disposition. Always smiling, always looking for adventure, or so Callie thought. Eva's latest feat was pulling up on the sofa, the coffee table, or the toy box and taking a few steps.

"You'll be walking soon," Callie said to her daughter.

Eva lay on her back in her crib kicking her chubby, little legs. Smiling and babbling. She could say _dada_ quite well and did so now.

"Dada." Kick, kick. "Dada."

Callie smiled affectionately at her child. "Mama. I'm mama. Can you say, mama?"

Eva blinked, sucked on her knuckles, and seemed to ponder Callie's words. Then, "Dada!" Her little legs kicked enthusiastically.

Callie laughed and shook her head. "Oh well, I tried. Let's finish getting you dressed, little one. Grandma and grandpa will be here soon."

The doorbell rang in the background and Callie chuckled to herself. "Guess they're here now." Callie wasn't surprised her parents had arrived early. They loved their grandchild dearly and Callie was sure they couldn't wait to babysit Eva for the weekend.

# # # #

It was late October and the countryside was ablaze with color. Vibrant red, orange, and gold leaves adorned the trees. Autumn was Callie's favorite season. Autumn meant colder weather and evenings spent in front of a cozy fire. Callie envisioned herself, Frank, and Eva snuggled on the sofa in the living room, a fire raging in the fireplace. It was a delightful image and Callie clung to it for a moment as she watched leaves fall from the trees.

Frank was driving and Callie sat in the passenger's seat. She and Frank were on their way to a Bed and Breakfast in Walnut Creek. This was a work weekend for Callie. However, it was also a chance to get-away with her husband and spend a few nights alone without the interruption of a baby.

Frank and Callie had been married three years. Three wonderful years. Frank was a police officer for the Evertville Police Department.

"It's a starting point," he had said when he'd accepted the job. The first step in what he hoped would be a long career in law enforcement.

Callie was comfortable with the decision and liked the small town of Evertville. She enjoyed living in the country. The people were so friendly and ready and willing to help whenever necessary.

Callie and Frank had purchased a modest home. Nothing big or fancy. A simple one story, three bedroom ranch that suited Callie and Frank to a T. Callie had found work, too. She was a freelance journalist for Evertville's tiny newspaper. Callie loved the job. She worked mainly from home and chose the stories she wrote. Working from home meant Callie and Eva were together. Eva did not need to be in daycare.

Most of Callie's stories dealt with the history of Evertville. Callie often spent long hours on the internet searching through old documents or historical events and people.

Callie did have to pop into the newspaper office on occasion and on those days, she brought Eva with her. What wonderful visits those were. Everyone oohed and awed over the baby.

_What a gorgeous child. Look at those blue eyes. She's a doll, an absolute doll._

Callie's heart swelled with pride at the sweet comments and she certainly agreed with them.

During one of those visits, Callie's boss had ushered her into his office, his expression telling her he had something exciting to say. Callie was pleasantly surprised when he offered her a special assignment. Would she be willing to investigate a ghost story in the nearby town of Walnut Creek?

"It would be the perfect story for our Halloween edition of the newspaper," Callie's boss, Mr. Calabrese, had said.

"It certainly would be." Callie had not been able to conceal the excitement in her voice. The assignment had everything Callie liked in a story; mystery, intrigue, and a bit of local history.

"Elizabeth Lancaster went missing fifteen years ago," Mr. Calabrese had explained, "and was never seen again. Her body was never found." Mr. Calabrese held out his hands and shrugged. "What happened to her? People want to know."

Callie held Eva in her arms, bouncing her on a hip. "You said people have seen her ghost? Where?"

"By the river," Mr. Calabrese said. "At the exact spot where some of her clothes were found fifteen years ago. Those clothes had blood on them."

Callie had gone straight home, put Eva down for her nap, and started an internet search on Elizabeth Lancaster. On the surface, the story seemed straightforward.

_Seventeen year-old Elizabeth Lancaster disappeared one rainy October night. According to her mother, (no father in the picture), Elizabeth was a dependable child and would never leave home without telling her mother or a friend where she was going. Elizabeth worked at a local diner and was saving her money for college. She had dreams of being a writer. Her mother said she was good at spinning a tale._

_When notified of the missing teen, the Walnut Creek police department and local volunteers immediately began a search. They worked all night through the pouring rain and into the next morning. Around noon, the rain finally let up and a volunteer spotted bloody clothes lying near the edge of Walnut Creek, the town's namesake._

_The creek was swollen and the waters fast moving due to the previous night's heavy rainfall. Police speculated the teen had fallen into the creek and been swept away. Walnut Creek's police chief called in extra help from surrounding communities. Searchers and police officers scoured the banks of the creek looking for clues. Unfortunately, nothing more was found. A week later when the creek waters receded, divers were brought in. There were a few deep areas in the creek. Sadly, no trace of the teen was ever found._

_All that remained were the bloody clothes. Elizabeth's mother confirmed they belonged to her daughter; a favorite jacket and a pair of tennis shoes. DNA tests confirmed the blood was Elizabeth's._

Quite the story, Callie thought as she watched the countryside flash by outside the car window.

Frank glanced at his wife. "ETA twenty minutes."

Callie reached out a hand and touched Frank's arm. "Thank you, again, for coming with me."

Frank grinned. "No need to thank me. I know you're here for your job and that you'll be working, but you won't be working every minute of the next three days. I think we can squeeze in some time for ourselves." Frank gave Callie a look, one she correctly interpreted. One that said, _the nights will be ours. All ours. No fussy baby waking us at four a.m._

"Yes, we will have some time for ourselves." A shy grin danced upon Callie's lips. "I may even need your help in my investigation."

"No problem," Frank said. "I'd love to help."

# # # #

Twenty minutes later, Frank pulled into the parking lot of the _Walnut Creek Bed & Breakfast_ and parked.

"Here we are," he said and turned off the car.

Callie got out of the vehicle, tugged on her jacket, and surveyed her surroundings. A beautiful, two-story Victorian style building took center stage. Wood smoke curled from its' stone chimney. The fire would be welcome. The air was decidedly crisp and cool.

A wraparound porch with Adirondack chairs beckoned visitors to sit and lounge. Maybe read a good book or watch the birds gathering at feeders hanging in nearby trees.

Callie glanced at the sky. Thick clouds had rolled in. A thunderstorm was on the way. There would be no lounging on the porch this evening.

Frank opened the car's trunk and lifted out their suitcases.

Callie stepped up beside him and took the handle of her case. "It's beautiful here. I'm glad we came."

Frank closed the trunk and grabbed the handle of his suitcase. "So am I. You know what makes this place even nicer?"

Frank and Callie started walking toward the porch and entrance.

"No, what?" Callie tucked a strand of long, blonde hair behind an ear.

"The fact your boss is paying for the room."

Callie laughed. "That certainly doesn't hurt."

# # # #

The aroma of hot cider hit Callie and Frank the moment they stepped into the _Bed and Breakfast_. A fire crackled in a stone fireplace. A sofa and two arm chairs, positioned on either side of the hearth, invited guests to sit a spell. Bookcases filled with paperback books, jigsaw puzzles, and board games gave the room a homey feel. Callie liked the place instantly.

A middle aged woman behind a wooden counter greeted the couple. "Good afternoon, folks." The phone on the counter rang and the woman held up an index finger. "Excuse me a sec, I'll be right with you. Please, help yourselves to some spiced cider right over there on the sideboard."

Callie and Frank turned in the direction the woman had indicated. The sideboard was a beautiful oak piece decorated with intricate wood cravings. An earthen pitcher and mugs were laid out on top on a lace doily.

Frank poured each of them a cup of hot cider.

"This place is gorgeous," Callie whispered as she took the mug Frank handed her.

"Lot of history in an old place like this." Frank scanned the room as he sipped his cider.

"This place was built in the 1800s," Callie said, holding her mug with both hands. "I read about it online. Some people say it's haunted."

Frank lifted a dark brow. "Why? Did someone die here?"

The woman behind the counter hung up the phone and cleared her throat. "Ahem, no one died here. At least, not as far as I know and I know a fair amount. My family has owned this property and building for three generations."

Frank and Callie approached the counter and woman.

"Claims that the building is haunted have been greatly exaggerated." The woman seemed genuinely amused by the notion. "Honestly though, I don't mind. It draws people in. We get a few guests that come just to see if they can spot a ghost wandering the halls at night."

Callie set her mug on the counter. "I read that there have been sightings of a ghost along the creek."

The woman nodded and brushed a lock of gray hair off her forehead. "Yes, there have been. A lot of the locals – mostly teens – claim they've seen a ghost running along the creek at night. Look out the windows there."

Callie and Frank dutifully did as instructed and walked to the mullioned windows. Beyond the glass they saw a gently flowing creek. It was a good distance from the building and cut a wide path through the surrounding pines and maples. A stone path led to a sitting area on the near side of the creek. It looked like a good place to curl up with a cup of tea and watch the creek roll by. On a better day, of course. Today the clouds were thick and held the promise of rain. Those clouds also lent an air of gloom to the outside world.

The woman continued, "That's Walnut Creek. It runs through our property and into the next county. There's several well marked hiking trails along it. One of those trails leads to the spot where a teenager disappeared many years ago. There's a white cross staked in the ground where her bloody clothes were found. Those were the only things ever found of her."

Callie's heart thumped. She had to take that trail. She had to walk the same ground Elizabeth Lancaster had walked the last night she was seen alive. Callie turned to the woman behind the counter. This woman was a valuable source of information and Callie wanted to interview her.

"Hi, I'm Callie Hardy and this is my husband Frank." Callie included Frank with a wave of her hand.

The woman's face lit up. "Why you're the journalist from Evertville. Your boss, what was his name? No, don't tell me. Yes, I remember it now. Mr. Calabrese. He called and booked a room for the two of you. He picked the best room we have. Second floor at the end. Very quiet up there and it has a nice view of the creek."

"That was very kind of him," Callie said, truly appreciative. "Did Mr. Calabrese tell you why I'm here?"

The woman nodded. "He said you were here to investigate the disappearance of Elizabeth Lancaster, the missing teen I was just telling you about. By the way, I'm Sheila Donahue."

Sheila extended a hand and Callie shook it. "Nice to meet you, Ms. Donahue."

Sheila waved her hand like she was swatting a fly. "Please, call me Sheila." She glanced at the register on the counter. "I see you folks are booked for two nights. That'll give you plenty of time to investigate."

A wry smile curled the corners of Callie's mouth. Three days and two nights. Would that really be enough to unearth the mystery of Elizabeth Lancaster's disappearance?

A man of about fifty-five – the same age as Sheila – came into the room. He wore work clothes, old jeans and a plaid shirt, and scuffed up boots. His arms were filled with firewood. "Howdy, folks. Don't mind me, I'm just bringing in more firewood for this evening. Looks like we're in for a storm."

"My husband Neal," Sheila said. "Neal, these are the Hardys. Mrs. Hardy is the journalist I was telling you about. She's here to investigate Liz Lancaster's disappearance."

Neal's bushy eyebrows rose and he stared at Callie as if he was assessing her abilities. "Good luck," he finally said then walked to the fireplace and quietly stowed the wood in the niche beside the hearth. He never once looked back at Callie or Frank.

Frank frowned at the man's back for a long moment. Callie felt she could read Frank's mind, _What's up with Neal Donahue?_

Sheila made a sound of annoyance and rolled her eyes. "Don't mind my husband. He can't see any point in investigating Liz's disappearance. To his way of thinking, too much time has passed." She lowered her voice, forcing Callie and Frank to move closer. "He says, leave the dead alone, there's nothing new you can find after all these years. Any evidence there might have been was washed away that night. We had a terrible rainstorm the night Liz went missing." Sheila shivered like she was reliving that night.

Frank rested an elbow on the counter and kept his voice low. "I'm of the opinion it's never too late to investigate a disappearance and I'm sure Elizabeth's family would feel the same. They might like to know what happened to her."

Sheila nodded and her expression turned sad. "You're right, they would. Her mother and sister still live in town. The sister works at the _Bobcat Restaurant_. It's a good place to eat if you're interested. It's just down the road. You can walk to it."

Callie looked up at Frank. "I think we'd like to try it this evening."

Sheila smiled. "Tell them Sheila sent you and you'll get a five percent discount."

Callie returned Sheila's smile. "Thank you, we will."

"Well," Sheila said, "let me get you two checked in."

Callie and Frank finished their hot cider while Sheila entered their information in the computer and then handed them a key.

Neal came up beside them and held out a hand to Frank. "Sorry if I seemed a little .. um, short with you, folks. Didn't mean to."

Frank shook the older man's rough hand. "No problem. By the way, I'm a police officer. I understand how difficult it is to crack a cold case."

One bushy brow rose a smidge. "Police officer, huh? Well, good luck to you. Perhaps the two of you can ferret out something new in the Lancaster case. Nobody else has been able to find anything new in all these years."

Callie wondered how many people had been working on the case 'all these years.' She and Frank thanked Sheila for the cider and left the empty mugs on the counter as Sheila insisted. Then they wheeled their suitcases to the beautiful staircase that led to the second floor. No elevator in this old Victorian.

# # # #

Frank set Callie's suitcase on top of a luggage rack and did the same with his own.

Callie went to the window, pushed aside the lace curtain, and looked out. The view of the creek was indeed nice. Callie turned in a circle and admired the room. It was like stepping into the past. An old chest of drawers, a handmade quilt on the bed, and a braided rug on the floor. "I love this room," she told Frank. "Especially the fireplace." She bent to examine it. "It's gas."

Frank scooped a paper off the antique chest of drawers. "Says here the fireplace is the only source of heat for the room."

"I don't mind." Callie sidled up to Frank and put her hands on the back of his neck. "I think it's romantic. I can't wait to fall asleep, snuggled up to you with a fire going."

Frank wrapped his arms around his wife's waist and kissed her lightly on the lips. "Who says we'll be falling asleep?" The glint in his eyes signaled longing and need, a need that had gone unanswered for far too long.

Callie pulled back slightly and ran a hand down Frank's cheek. The power of his presence – his body pressing against hers – stirred desires, desires she had kept buried for the past ten months. "You're right, we won't be falling asleep. Not right away," she whispered.

Frank lowered his head and held Callie's gaze. He saw desire flickering in her sky blue eyes. Exactly what he had hoped to see. "I say we try out the bed. See if it's comfortable."

# # # #

The bed proved to be very comfortable and Callie felt a twinge of guilt for enjoying herself so much, but only because her boss was paying for the room. Now, however, it was time to start earning her pay. Callie was hoping Elizabeth's sister – Rose – was working tonight at the _Bobcat Restaurant_. Rose was on Callie's list of people to interview.

As Callie eased out of bed, Frank grabbed her by the wrist. "Leaving so soon?"

Callie leaned over and kissed her husband. "Yeah, I'm going to freshen up and then we can walk to that restaurant, the _Bobcat_. I'm starving."

Frank released Callie's wrist and propped himself up on an elbow, a better angle from which to gaze upon his wife. The view was spectacular. "I'm hungry, too." His voice was deep and rough and sent a little thrill down Callie's spine. She wasn't sure Frank was talking about food and the thought made her smile.

It had taken four months to get her pre-pregnancy figure back and now that it had returned she felt sexy and feminine. She wouldn't mind climbing right back in bed and showing Frank just how sexy she felt. His expression said he would welcome it if she did.

Reluctantly, Callie stifled her impulses and forced herself to focus on her job, her assignment, the whole reason she and Frank were here. "Ahem, I can be ready in ten minutes. How about you?" There was a teasing, mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

Frank tossed off the covers and Callie almost changed her mind about climbing back in bed. Frank Hardy was a hard man to resist. Tall, dark, handsome, and muscular. Oh-so muscular. And kind and loving. And also a wonderful husband and father.

Frank got out of bed and reached for his clothes. He gave Callie a sideways glance as he picked up his jeans. "I can be ready in ten minutes." He paused, looked over his shoulder at her. The moment stretched and held. "Unless you want to change your mind."

Callie swallowed with difficulty, staring at the strong line of Frank's back. Why must Frank look so devastatingly sexy? Callie took a deep breath and hardened her resolve. "Um, no. Ten minutes it is. We'll have all night to .. to enjoy the bed."

A wicked glint came into Frank's eyes. He dropped his jeans on the bed and walked over to Callie, took her face in his hands and kissed her tenderly, slowly, sensually. Callie felt her resolve slipping. Her hands were sliding up Frank's arms, headed for his broad shoulders when her stomach issued a loud grumble.

Frank broke the kiss and laughed. "I guess you really are hungry."

Callie gave Frank a weak smile. She wasn't sure she appreciated her stomach's interruption. "Yeah, I am."

Frank chuckled good-naturedly. "Then we better get going. Don't want my wife starving to death."

# # # #

The hostess at the _Bobcat Restaurant_ told Callie and Frank that Rose Lancaster, now Schmidt, was not working this evening. Rose was home with a sick child.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Callie said automatically and rued her bad luck. Of course, it was bad luck for Rose, too. Poor thing had a sick child. "I hope it's nothing serious."

The hostess, a young woman of about thirty, gathered menus and led Callie and Frank into the restaurant. "A bad cold," she said over her shoulder then stopped at a table and laid the menus down. "Rose isn't one to let her kids miss school, so her daughter must be really sick. Rose has kept her home for two days."

"Must be a very bad cold," Callie agreed as Frank pulled out her chair. "I hope her daughter gets better soon." Callie was relieved to know Rose was in town and home. Rose's phone number was tucked in Callie's notes back at the _Bed and Breakfast_. Callie would call Rose tomorrow and set up a time to talk with her.

With business out of the way, Callie and Frank enjoyed a delicious meal. The thunder and lightning started when their dinner plates were being taken away. The rain started in earnest when Frank handed the waiter his credit card.

"How about an after dinner drink," Frank said with a grin. "Give the rain a chance to die down before we walk back to the Bed and Breakfast."

Callie examined the bar. It was cozy and dimly lit. Not many customers. It looked very inviting. A refuge from the storm. The rain was hammering the roof and running down the windows in thick rivulets. If they walked back now they would be soaked to the skin.

"I'd love a drink," Callie said.

# # # #

Callie and Frank sat at one end of the bar, each with a glass of wine. This was another return to pre-pregnancy normalcy. Callie had not had a drink in .. in over a year. Not that she missed having a drink, no, it was date night with Frank that she had missed. Those had gone by the wayside once Eva was born. Until now.

Not that Callie didn't miss her baby because she did, thoroughly and completely. Frank did, too. Eva had been the main topic of conversation during dinner. Callie had even phoned home to check on her parents, to see how they were holding up. Taking care of a ten month could be taxing especially, for two people in their late fifties. The call had lasted quite a while. Callie's mom had had to tell Callie all about Eva's dinner and her bath and story time and how very much Eva loved her stuffed lamb. Yes, Callie had said, Eva did love that lamb and by the way, it was named Harry in honor of a real lamb the family had once met.

"Penny for your thoughts," Frank said breaking into Callie's reminiscing.

Callie suddenly realized she had been lost in thought and smiled softly. "Just thinking how much I miss Eva, but also how much I enjoy being here with you tonight. It's been nice to get away together. Just the two of us."

Frank took Callie's hand in his and rubbed her knuckles with his thumb. "I was thinking the same thing. Maybe we could have your parents babysit once a month."

Callie chuckled under her breath. "I'm sure they would love that. They adore Eva."

"Your mother has been hinting she'd like another grandchild." Callie was amazed Frank said this with a straight face.

Callie tilted her head and looked at Frank from beneath dark lashes. "I wouldn't mind another baby. In a year."

"Me, too. In a year." Frank's voice was low and tender and Callie felt the love in it.

The bartender appeared and placed a hand on the counter. "How's everything, folks? Need a refill on that glass of wine, sir?

Frank noticed his glass was nearly empty and looked up at the bartender. "No, thanks. One's enough for me."

The bartender nodded and turned to Callie. "How 'bout you, ma'am? Can I get you anything?"

Yes, Callie thought, there was something the bartender could do for her. She smiled at him and said, "I'm a writer and I'm working on a local interest piece for my newspaper. It's about Elizabeth Lancaster. I was wondering if, by any chance, you lived in town when she disappeared."

"Wow." The bartender was genuinely surprised. "That's a blast from the past. Um yeah, I was here when she disappeared. Went to school with her as a matter-of-fact. We were juniors in high school. Liz was one of the prettiest girls in school. A lot of guys wanted to date her."

"Did you ever date her?" Callie held her breath, hoping the answer was yes.

"Nah. Wish I had. Liz was hooked up some older guy. He worked .." The bartender cocked his head, frowned, and searched his memory. "Oh yeah, he worked as a mechanic at the local gas station."

"Rudy Glynn?" Callie was sure of the name. It was in her notes at the _Bed and Breakfast_.

"Yeah, that sounds right." The bartender's head bobbed up and down.

"Can you tell me anything about Rudy Glynn?" Hope rose in Callie yet again.

The bartender shook his head. "Sorry, I only know his name cause it was in the paper and everybody at school was talking about him. We all figured he had something to do with Liz's disappearance. He left town a few months after she went missing and that got everybody talking again. He was the number one suspect in our books."

"Leaving so soon after Elizabeth's disappearance would certainly make him appear suspicious." Callie's hopes of a breakthrough in this case were cooling like the embers of a dying fire.

"Did to us," the bartender said and shrugged. "But hey, we were just high school kids. What did we know?"

Callie saw a customer further down the bar trying to get the bartender's attention. "Well, thank you for talking to me. I'll let you get back to your customers."

"Sure, no problem." The bartender saw the customer indicating he would like a refill and hurried over to wait on the man.

Once the bartender was out of earshot, Frank asked, "Learn anything new?"

"No." Callie fingered the stem of her wine glass and looked a bit disheartened. "I already knew about Rudy Glynn, that he was older than Elizabeth and that he left town. I'd love to talk to him, but haven't been able to locate him. He and Elizabeth seem to have vanished into thin air."

"It's early," Frank said. "We've only been in town a few hours and you've only talked to two people, Sheila Donohue and this guy. You still have tomorrow and the next day to question people."

Callie valued Frank's positive and upbeat attitude. She laid a hand on his. "True. Thanks for the pep talk. I needed that."

Twenty minutes later they were trudging through the rain, trying to avoid the puddles on the sidewalk. They had no umbrella and were hunched in their waterproof jackets. Thankfully, their jackets had hoods. Their upper bodies were warm and dry. However, their shoes were no match for the pouring rain. Callie's feet were soaked. The bottom half of her pant legs were soaked. She decided to throw caution to the wind.

"I'll race you to the Bed and Breakfast," she yelled at Frank. The rain was pelting their slickers so hard he would not have heard her otherwise.

"You're on," Frank yelled back and smiled.

"Go!" Callie shouted and took off.

Frank stand on the sidewalk, arms out. "Hey, what happened to one, two, three, go?" Callie didn't stop running, didn't even look back. What the heck, Frank thought and took off. He soon closed the gap between them, jogged up alongside of Callie, and admonished, "You cheated."

Callie glanced at Frank from under her hood and grinned. "Did I?" She put on a burst of speed, grabbed hold of her hood so it wouldn't slide off her head, and bolted ahead of Frank. She was tiring, but would never admit it. Besides, she could see the dim, watery glow of the porch light of the _Bed and Breakfast_. That covered porch promised shelter from the rain.

The race was on. Callie and Frank pounded the wet pavement, water splashing their legs, raindrops hitting their faces and blurring their vision.

"Careful," Frank cautioned as they approached the steps leading up to the porch.

Up, up, up they went and out of the rain. They collapsed into each other's arms, laughing. Callie was exhausted and panting, yet exhilarated. The run had felt good. Her body was warm, but the heat wouldn't last. The night air was cold.

Callie and Frank stripped off their shoes and socks and tiptoed into the _Bed and Breakfast_. They hung their dripping jackets on hooks inside the entrance, in a mudroom. It was after ten p.m. and the place was quiet. The only sound was the crackling of a fire in the stone fireplace. A lamp on an end table cast a soft, golden glow around the room. Callie longed to sit in front of the fire, to put her feet up and warm them. Already her toes were ice cold and starting to ache.

Frank leaned over and whispered in her ear, "I'll start the fireplace in our room if you get the shower going."

"Deal," Callie said.

Frank took Callie by the hand. They crept up the stairs, down the hall, and into their room.

The shower was hot and wonderful. The bed proved to be just as comfortable the second time as it had been the first time. The gas fire had warmed the room nicely.

Frank wrapped his arms around Callie and she snuggled against him, feeling warm and secure. She fell into a deep sleep. She hadn't slept this deeply in months. As a new mother, a part of her was always on alert. Some small portion of her mind kept a constant ear out for a crying baby.

The rain had stopped. A clock ticked softly on the old chest of drawers. _Tick … tick … tick_.

Callie heard a baby cry and struggled to wake herself. It was like trying to swim to the surface from the bottom of the ocean. An impossible feat.

Another cry, louder and closer. Callie sat bolt upright on the bed, the sheets and quilt falling away, her breath coming in sharp gasps.

Eva. Where was Eva?

No, not Eva. Eva was home with Callie's parents.

A loud shriek that cut like a blade came from outside.

Frank jolted awake and threw off the covers. "What in the world?" He dashed to the window in only his boxers and a t-shirt.

Callie rapidly followed, pulling her robe off the end of the bed and tugging it on. The room wasn't as warm as it had been when they fell asleep.

Frank pushed aside the lace curtain and Callie joined him at the window. They stood, shoulders touching, and peered through the glass. They saw movement down below, near the creek. A flash of white. Bright white. Callie's heart jumped. She leaned forward and placed a hand on the cold window sill. A woman with long, flowing hair raced along the creek. She wore a long white dress and carried a lantern. The lantern swung in her hand and sent wedges of light shining this way and that.

"The ghost," Callie whispered. "She came."


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Please forgive me for the delay. I should know better than to start a story right around the holidays. Thank you to those who left a review. I intend for this to be a short story and, something a little lighter, before I launch into my next story which will be a Frank/Nancy story. _

Chapter Two

The next morning dawned cold and sunny. The world was wet and dewy thanks to the previous night's rain. Callie and Frank sat in the dining room of the _Walnut Creek Bed and Breakfast_ having breakfast. Their table was by the window and they had a clear view of the creek. It was flowing rapidly.

Just like the morning after Elizabeth Lancaster's disappearance, Callie thought. The creek water had been high and fast moving that day. Callie brought her hot tea to her lips and sipped. After breakfast she and Frank were going to explore the creek and those trails Sheila Donahue had mentioned. Callie wanted to look for footprints the ghost might have left behind. But more importantly, she wanted to see that white cross, the one that marked the spot where Elizabeth's clothes had been found fifteen years ago.

In the afternoon, Callie had an appointment to see Rose Schmidt, Elizabeth's sister. Rose had sounded reluctant to meet Callie. She had given excuses why today – or any day – wasn't a good time for her to see Callie. Just a few questions, Callie had said on the phone. I promise not to take up too much of your time. Finally, Rose had consented. Callie and Frank could drop by at one o'clock.

"Your food is getting cold," Frank said.

Callie snapped out of her thoughts, glanced at her food, and then her husband. "Oh, sorry. I was thinking about Rose Schmidt and the questions I want to ask her."

"I understand." Frank grinned. "I know all about the mental prep before an interview."

Callie placed her teacup on the table and gave Frank a sweet smile. "Honestly, I hadn't realized how much prep there is. But having you here with me – as part of this – is a big comfort. This is my first stab at investigative journalism," she blushed slightly, "and I feel a little out of my league. All my other stories were about the founding fathers and families of Evertville. I didn't have to interview anyone. I just did research and wrote down the facts."

Frank gathered Callie's hand in his and squeezed gently. "From what I've seen so far, you're a natural as a journalist. You'll be fine when you interview Rose and if by some remote chance you forget a question, or need help, I'll be there. I can step in at any time and save the day."

Callie laughed at Frank's droll sense of humor. Yet, she knew he was serious, too. "Thank you, husband dear. It's nice to know that if I get a little muddled, or in a bind, you'll be there to rescue me."

"Always," Frank said and Callie knew he meant it.

An hour later they were outside, standing by the creek, dressed in hiking boots, jackets, and thick sweaters. Birdsong and the sound of rushing water filled the chilly air. Callie held a map in her hands. Sheila Donohue had given it to her a few minutes ago. The map was locally produced for the _Bed and Breakfast_ and showed all the trails running along the creek. Sheila had marked the one that led directly to the cross.

Callie had asked Sheila, "Do you think it's the trail Elizabeth took the night she disappeared?"

Sheila had given the question due consideration before answering. "Hmm, well, I don't rightly know to tell you the truth. I never really thought about it before. Best I can say is, it's the shortest and easiest route to the white cross, especially if you were walking at night. All the other trails veer off into the woods before circling back to the creek and eventually leading back to our place."

Frank nudged Callie's shoulder, bringing her back to the present. "There's the bridge Sheila told us to take." He pointed downstream at a lovely wooden bridge arching gracefully over the creek.

Callie nodded and said, "Let's go." She folded the map and stuffed it in her jacket pocket.

They walked along a soggy path, still damp from the rain, and onto the bridge.

Callie paused at the railing and took a moment to peer at the rushing water. "If anyone fell into today they'd be swept away," she said, her voice and expression grim.

Frank studied the water, noted the rapids and eddies. "If Elizabeth Lancaster fell in the creek that night she never had a chance. She would have been carried away and drowned."

Callie looked at her husband. "Unless she was able to grab onto something. Maybe a tree root?"

"Maybe," Frank conceded. "If she was lucky."

"The creek is beautiful, but deadly," Callie said quietly.

Frank nodded and looked at the other end of the bridge. "I see the signs for the trailheads."

"Good," Callie said, "we want Trail Number Three. The map said it's a one mile hike to the cross and back."

The couple found the trail and started down the path. It was narrow in places and forced them to walk single file at times. The trail stayed close to the creek and the walking was easy.

Frank was in the lead and examined the ground as he walked.

Callie and Frank were the only people out this early. Callie didn't think anyone else had walked this path this morning. "See any footprints?" she asked.

"I do." Frank went down on one knee. "Here." He pointed to a place where weeds and grass met the path. "It appears our ghost tried to run in the weeds as much as possible to avoid leaving footprints on the trail."

"Very clever of her," Callie said, taking a knee beside Frank. She watched as Frank took out his phone and snapped a few pictures. A heel impression here, a toe impression there. Callie grinned at her husband. He was always the detective, always gathering evidence even if he wasn't actually working a case. Who knew, maybe his pictures would one day solve the mystery of Elizabeth Lancaster.

"Tennis shoes most likely," Frank said, standing and tucking his phone back in his jacket pocket. "Good for running. Our ghost came prepared."

Callie rose to her feet and looked at the trail that lay ahead, a thoughtful expression in her eyes. "Yes, she was moving very fast last night."

Frank surveyed the path. "Our ghost has to know this trail extremely well. No one would dare run here at night with only the light of a lantern if they didn't know the path. It's too easy to twist an ankle on a rock." Frank kicked a loose rock aside as if to emphasis the point. "Or stumble over a tree root and go sliding down into the creek. If the ghost were to hurt herself she could easily be caught."

"True," Callie said a slight frown wrinkling her forehead. "And, I just realized something. The ghost was coming from the direction of the cross. I wonder if she was visiting it."

Frank stared at his wife for a second mildly surprised at her astute observation, although he shouldn't have been. "Maybe that's what she wants people to think, that she was visiting the cross."

"Or," Callie said, "she wants people to think she's the ghost of Elizabeth Lancaster."

Frank and Callie started walking again at a quicker pace. The desire to get to the cross had increased.

Callie broached the subject she had wanted to pursue since leaving the _Bed and Breakfast_. "So, what did you think of Sheila's response when I asked her about the ghost?"

Frank, in the lead again, spoke over his shoulder, "That she hadn't heard it?"

"Yes," Callie said. "How could she not have heard it? The shrieks and cries woke both you and me out of a sound sleep."

Frank nodded agreement as he faced forward. He remembered the long plaintive shriek that had jolted him awake. More shrieks had followed, but strangely, as the ghost neared the _Bed and Breakfast_ the shrieks had faded and died out.

Frank, ever logical, said, "Well, we know other people at the _Bed and Breakfast_ heard the shrieks. I heard other guests talking about it at breakfast."

"Yes, I did, too." Callie stepped over a large rock jutting up in the middle of the path. Callie noted that this was a particularly rocky section of the trail. A person would have to run carefully through here be it night _or_ day.

Frank was talking over his shoulder again, "I head the older couple to the right of us say they had seen the ghost from their window just like we had."

"I heard them talking, too," Callie said. "The wife sounded excited about seeing the ghost. The husband, not so much."

"Maybe the husband's like me and doesn't like to be awakened in the middle of the night." Frank smiled at Callie, so she would know he was teasing.

# # # #

Ten minutes later they reached the cross. It was nothing special. Just two rectangular pieces of wood painted white and nailed together. However, a small bouquet of autumn flowers lay on the ground in front of the cross.

Callie looked around, half expecting to see someone lurking in the bushes or behind a tree. She knelt before the cross and examined the flowers. They were bound together by a strip of plant material. The flowers themselves were roughly cut as though picked from someone's garden.

Frank remained standing and alert as he asked, "What do you think? Were those flowers placed here last night?"

"Yes, I think so." Callie withdrew her phone and took several pictures. These would be great accompaniments to her newspaper article. The scene of the crime .. um, disappearance.

Callie heard a twig snap and bolted to her feet. "What was that?"

Frank was scanning their surroundings, trying to spot anything amiss. "I don't know." He looked at Callie and laid a comforting hand on her arm. "Probably just a squirrel or chipmunk."

Callie frowned at Frank. "A squirrel or chipmunk? That sounded like something much bigger, like a fox. Are there foxes in these woods?"

"I imagine there are." Frank put a finger to his lips and they listened to the woods.

Callie and Frank stood perfectly still. Wind rustled the dry leaves and sent them dropping like soft snowflakes. Birds chattered loudly in the canopy and the creek roared.

Finally, Frank shrugged. "Whatever it was, it's gone now."

Callie glanced cautiously over her shoulder. "So it seems."

"Did you see any footprints near the cross?" Frank asked and eyed the ground.

"No," Callie said, "I was more interested in the flowers." How could she have forgotten to look for footprints? Well, Frank was doing a good job of looking now. "See anything?"

"Yes, here." Frank pointed at the ground. "Our ghost did the same as before. She stayed in the grass and weeds as much as possible." Frank spotted a heel print and took a picture with his phone. "I'm sure this print will match the other ones, the ones at the start of the trail. I'll take a closer look when we're back at the _Bed and Breakfast_."

Callie read the time on her phone. "Speaking of which, we need to be getting back. I want to write down my notes from this morning and text my boss. I want to let Mr. Calabrese know that we saw the ghost last night and that I have an interview with Rose Schmidt this afternoon. I think he'll be happy to hear how well my investigation is going."

Frank glanced around quickly. "Okay, looks like we're finished here. You can lead the way back."

Callie slid her phone in her pocket and led Frank along the path in the direction of the _Bed and Breakfast_. She was quite pleased with her progress. Seeing the ghost had been an unexpected surprise. Had the ghost appeared just for Callie? No, that would be ridiculous. How could the ghost know that Callie was here and searching for answers?

The ghost hovered in the bushes, watching and listening. _They have come_, she thought and hope blossomed in her heart. After all these years, they had come. Truth seekers. A young couple genuinely interested in the truth. The woman was of special interest to the ghost. She had watched the woman lightly touch the flowers and take pictures of them.

The ghost felt a strong connection to the blonde woman with the bright blue eyes. _I can sense your heart_, the ghost thought. _Your heart is true and just. Perhaps, you are the one who will finally tell my story_.

But now, it was time to go. To flee. The ghost darted through the woods, her feet barely touching the ground. She needed hardly to look where she put her feet as she knew the woods so well .. _so very,very_ well.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Callie and Frank approached Rose's front door at precisely one o'clock. The house was older but nicely maintained. Fresh paint, new window shutters. The yellowing lawn appeared to have been recently mowed and the rosebushes along the house were cut back. All signs of homeowners preparing for the winter.

Callie did wonder about those rosebushes. Planted in honor of Rose?

Frank knocked on the door and it was promptly opened by an attractive woman of thirty. Her chestnut brown hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail and her dark eyes studied Frank and Callie with cool interest.

Callie stuck out a hand and introduced herself. "Hi, I'm Callie Hardy and this is my husband Frank. Are you Rose Schmidt?"

The woman hesitated a second then shook Callie's hand. Her grip was firm, hard, and quick. It said, _let's be done with this_.

"Yes, I'm Rose. Come in." Rose's tone indicated the opposite, _I wish you hadn't come at all_.

"Thank you," Callie gushed as she and Frank entered the overly warm house. "I know this is very short notice, but my husband and I are only in town for a few days."

Rose led Callie and Frank into a small living room. "Have a seat," she said and motioned them toward a sagging sofa.

There was a pillow and blanket on the sofa, a sign Rose's sick daughter had spent the past couple of days here. Callie moved the pillow and blanket aside and sat down. Frank sat beside her.

"I hope your daughter's feeling better," Callie said and laid a pen and notepad on her lap.

Rose sat in a worn wingchair across from the sofa. "Her temperature broke yesterday. She's in her room on the computer, catching up on the schoolwork she's missed. I was hoping to do some housework and change the sheets on her bed before I go to work tonight." Rose's look said, _you are interfering with my very busy day_.

"Yes, well, I won't keep you long," Callie promised. "First, let me properly introduce myself. I'm a journalist for the _Evertville Newspaper_."

"Evertville?" Rose gasped, her eyes growing wide.

Callie thought she saw fear in Rose's eyes. Fear of what? Callie kept her tone calm and gentle. "Yes, Evertville. Are you familiar with the town?"

Rose seemed to catch herself, seemed to realize she had given something away with her sudden surprise. "Um, yeah, I-I've been to Evertville," she stammered. "Once. Maybe twice. It's not that far from here you know. Two hours? I was at a church there .. the Catholic one. It's very pretty." After a brief pause Rose hurried to add, "A friend of mine – from high school – got married there."

"St. Paul's," Callie said with a smile. "I've been in it many times. The building is absolutely beautiful."

There were three churches in Evertville and Callie had been in all of them at one time or another doing research. Each church contained valuable records on the town's founding families. Marriage records, birth, death, and baptismal records.

Rose nodded. "Yes, St. Paul's. That's the one." Then her tone and demeanor changed. She stiffened as if readying herself for battle. "So, why are you here, Mrs. Hardy? What exactly is it you want?"

The sudden hostility startled Callie. However, she recovered quickly. "As I said on the phone, I have a couple of questions about your sister. You see, I'm writing an article on her disappearance. My husband," Callie motioned to Frank sitting beside her, "is a police officer and together we're doing a little research. Just reviewing the facts and talking to a few people."

Frank cleared his throat and leaned forward. "I'd like to clarify that this is an unofficial investigation on my part. I'm only here to lend assistance to my wife if she needs it."

Rose glared at Frank for a second. It was obvious she did not completely believe him. She switched her attention to Callie and now, there was anger in her voice. "An investigation? An article for a newspaper? I knew it. All you want is to write about my sister's tragedy and what happened to her so you can sell papers. Mom and I had enough of that years ago, people profiting off of Liz. We said, no, no more. We said we'd never do another interview ever again. In my opinion, everyone's had their chance to figure out what happened to Liz. And you know what? No one has. Liz is still missing and nobody knows why or what happened to her."

Callie let out a breath. She'd hit a nerve, a tender one. Callie had not meant to do that. This interview was going downhill fast and Callie scrambled to regain her footing. "Please Rose, I'm not here to sensationalize your sister's story or profit from it. That has never been my intention, I swear to you." Callie covered her heart with a hand as if pledging her allegiance. "I care deeply about what happened to your sister and to you and your mother. Both you and your mother had your lives changed permanently and forever. I understand that and I realize that you and your mother still grieve. I know this is hard for you emotionally, me coming here and asking questions. I know you must miss your sister terribly. How could you not? That's what I'm here to write about, the pain that persists to this day. I'm here to honor your sister's memory and if in the process of searching I unearth something that solves the mystery, then so much the better."

Rose shook her head like she was shaking away cobwebs, or thoughts, or feelings. Callie saw what looked like resignation settle over Rose's features. "Sorry," Rose said, "I can come on strong sometimes. Fifteen years. It never gets easier. It's like a nightmare that never ends."

Callie nodded slowly. "I understand and I'm here to help not hurt. I only want what's best for you and your family. I might not be able to solve the mystery of what happened to your sister, but I'd like to try. If only you'll give me a chance."

Rose sighed heavily. The weight of the world seemed to rest on her shoulders. A reporter had shown up asking questions. Now she must tell her story again.

"Okay," she said, glaring at Callie through narrowed eyes. "I'll tell you my story and then I want you to leave." Her tone was hard and sharp.

"Of course," Callie said and glanced at Frank. He discreetly lifted an eyebrow as if to say, _seems the best offer you're going to get_.

Callie wrote on her notepad as Rose told her story, the story of what had happened the day her sister disappeared.

Rose had gotten home from school at three o'clock, her usual time. She was a freshman in high school and Liz was a junior. Liz wasn't home when Rose arrived but that wasn't unusual. Liz's boyfriend, Rudy Glynn, usually picked her up at school and they often went somewhere to eat or hang out. Their favorite place to go was a hamburger joint popular with high schoolers back then. The place was long gone now, but police later told Rose and her mother that Rudy and Liz had been seen in the hamburger joint around three-thirty ordering hamburgers and fries 'to go.' What Liz and Rudy did after that was based solely on Rudy Glynn's answers to the police. He said he and Liz went to his place and ate their food. They watched TV and made out on his couch. Then he dropped Liz off at the _Walnut Creek Bed and Breakfast_ at seven p.m. That was the last time he saw her.

Rudy was twenty to Liz's seventeen and lived in a studio apartment. Blanche Lancaster, Liz and Rose's mom, did not approve of Rudy and made this abundantly clear to Liz every chance she got.

"He's too old for you," Blanche repeatedly told Liz.

According to Rose, her mother and sister fought frequently about the relationship. The fights were verbal. Harsh words were exchanged. Blanche called her daughter a tramp and warned her that Rudy was no good.

"He's a deadbeat with a dead end job. Mark my words, he's going to ruin your life," she often yelled at her daughter.

Blanche just as frequently bemoaned the bright future Liz was throwing away. Liz got straight As in school and would likely graduate at the top of her class next year. Unfortunately, next year never came for Liz Lancaster.

Liz was strong willed and hurled insults right back at mother in retaliation. The most cutting being, Her mother was a fine one to talk. She'd had two kids by two different men and hadn't married either one of them. Who was she to lecture Liz on men?

Rose sat in her room at night listening to these fights. She felt trapped, trapped in a life of turmoil. Callie had the distinct impression Rose had felt a bit neglected. Blanche was preoccupied with Liz and trying to pull her out of the downward spiral of her young life. That left Rose alone, sitting in her room wondering when the fighting would end.

"I love my mother. I loved my sister," Rose said. "But I hated the fighting. When those two fought, I became invisible. They forgot about me. It was like I didn't exist."

Callie's heart ached for the woman sitting across from her. Rose's high school years had not been easy. She had struggled at school while everything came easily for Liz. Liz didn't have to study half as hard as Rose did. That's why Liz was allowed to have a job. She had worked at the _Bobcat Restaurant_, the same place Rose now worked.

Actually, Blanche had been the first member of the family to work there. Then Liz got hired and things changed. Mother and daughter couldn't keep their bickering out of the work place. The boss said one of them had to go. It wound up being Blanche and this created more friction between the women. Now they had one more thing to fight about.

When Liz disappeared the fighting stopped. Finally. It was kind of a relief, Rose candidly admitted. She and her mother grew closer. It became them against the world, a world of reporters and police officers constantly asking questions. Rose and Blanche had stood together and weathered the storm.

Callie finished writing and stared down at her notepad. She suddenly realized Rose had never told the police this version of the story or, at least, she didn't think Rose had. There are been no mention of fights between Blanche and Liz in any of the articles Callie had read. In fact, in those articles Blanche and Liz had been presented as a loving mother and daughter. After Liz went missing, Blanche and Rose became the devoted, grieving mother and sister. They had everyone's sympathy. Liz was portrayed as a bright and shining star whose light had been prematurely extinguished.

Callie listened carefully as Rose continued. She studied Rose's facial expressions and the way she held herself. Callie thought about the tone of Rose's voice. Was that jealousy Callie detected? Had Rose been jealous of her older sister? If not jealous, then perhaps, resentful.

"Mom came home at ten that night," Rose said. "I was upstairs in my room listening to music. Mom yelled up that she was home. I turned off my music and yelled back that I was studying. Mom made herself something to eat and watched TV. I fell asleep and the next thing I knew it was midnight, or thereabouts, and mom was banging on my bedroom door. I woke up to mom standing over me, asking if I knew where Liz was. I could tell she was worried. I said, no, the last time I'd seen Liz was at school getting into Rudy Glynn's car. That set mom off. 'They've run off,' she said and rushed out of my room. I heard her downstairs calling the police and reporting Liz missing. I remember she told the police to check Rudy Glynn's apartment cause that was the most likely place for Liz to be."

Callie jolted down a quick note, lifted her head, and said, "Did they check Rudy Glynn's apartment?"

Rose crossed her arms and nodded. "They did. Rudy was there all by himself, asleep in his bed. The police asked him about Liz and he claimed he'd dropped her off at the _Walnut Creek Bed and Breakfast_ at seven p.m. just like she'd asked him to. Liz had a friend that worked there, Tara. Tara was older, twenty-one I think. She worked at the _Bed and Breakfast_ as a housekeeper and receptionist. She got off at ten that night and was supposed to give Liz a ride home."

Callie smiled to herself. This was new information and another person to interview. "I'm sure the police questioned Tara."

"Yeah, Tara said Liz was acting weird that night. Kind of antsy and nervous. Tara asked Liz if something was wrong and she said everything was fine and that she'd changed her mind that she'd decided to walk home instead of waiting for Tara. Liz told Tara she wanted to get home before mom did because she didn't want mom worrying about her. Liz left the _Bed and Breakfast_ around eight forty-five and that was the last anyone saw of my sister."

Callie frowned. "Wasn't it raining that night? It seems odd for Liz to walk home in the rain when she could have waited and gotten a ride."

Rose shrugged and seemed to brush off the question. "It wasn't raining that hard. The storm didn't hit until one or two in the morning and the _Bed and Breakfast_ wasn't that far from our house. Liz and I used to walk past it all the time on our way into town. That's how we got around. We walked everywhere. We must've walked that route hundreds of times in the summer."

Liz would know that route very well, Callie thought and possibly the trails around the _Bed and Breakfast_.

"How far would you say your house was from the _Bed and Breakfast_?" Callie's pen was poised and ready to write the answer on her notepad.

Rose thought it over and said, "A mile and a half. Maybe less. It usually took us thirty minutes to walk to the _Bed and Breakfast_. The time depended on how fast we walked and how much we talked." A tiny smile flickered on Rose's lips. Callie sensed that Rose had fond memories of those walks with her sister.

Callie ended the interview with one last question. "So the last time you saw your sister was at school at three o'clock?"

"That's the last time," Rose said with finality and stood. "I really have to check on my daughter and her bedsheets need to be washed."

Callie and Frank stood in unison. "Yes, of course," Callie said. "I'm sorry for the interruption. I hope your daughter feels better and thank you again for talking to me."

"Yes, thank you," Frank said. He took a quick look around the room and then he and Callie left.

Once they were in their car and buckling their seatbelts, Callie said, "Well, that interview did not go anything like I had expected."

Frank grinned and started the car. "They never do."

"So, what do you think?" Callie asked. "Was Rose telling the truth? I found her hard to read at times. I'm not sure what to make of her relationship with her sister. There were moments when she was talking that I got the feeling she resented her sister or .. or was jealous of her. She admitted it was a relief when her sister went missing because the fighting finally stopped."

"Well," Frank hesitated and Callie felt he was choosing his words carefully, "you know, with Liz out of the way, Rose got her mother all to herself."

Callie's eyebrows rose and then lowered into a menacing frown. She turned slightly toward her husband. "What are you saying, Frank?"

Frank waved a hand as if to dismiss his statement. "Nothing. Forget it."

But Callie couldn't forget it or dismiss it and she was certain she knew what Frank was saying – or rather – not saying. "Are you suggesting that Rose had something to do with Liz's disappearance?"

"Well, I .." Frank kept his eyes on the road and a hand on the steering wheel. "Let's just say, stranger things have happened. It's not beyond the realm of possibilities."

No it wasn't, Callie thought. And with Liz out of the way, Rose got all of her mother's love and attention. Plus, there was no more fighting.

Rose knew the route to the _Bed and Breakfast_ as well as Liz did. Rose must have known the trails around the _Bed and Breakfast_ equally as well. Had Rose lured Liz to the creek and pushed her in?

It was a possibility …


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Rose stood at the living room window and watched Callie and Frank Hardy's car back out of the driveway. Only when the car was out of sight did Rose let her guard down. She slumped against the wall, drew in a long breath, and let it out slowly. It was starting again. After all this time, a reporter was back, asking questions, digging around for the truth.

Fifteen years. Why now?

Why couldn't people leave well enough alone?

Fifteen years ago everything had gone according to plan. The deed was done. Liz was gone, never to return. That was the plan and it had worked perfectly. No one had looked in the correct direction. No one had suspected …

Now? Now, Callie Hardy had appeared – out of the blue – on Rose's doorstep and had asked questions about that night. Questions that Rose could never answer. _Would_ never answer. Never. Some secrets were best kept buried. Unearthing those secrets would bring nothing but pain.

"Mom?"

Rose jumped and gave a short scream. Then she saw her nine-year-old daughter standing in the living room with frightened eyes. Rose's scream had startled the child.

"You scared me, mom," the little girl whimpered, tears in her eyes.

Rose rushed to her daughter and hugged her. "Mommy's sorry, darling. I-I was thinking about something and didn't hear you come into the room."

Rose felt her daughter's tears on her shirt sleeve. "There now, baby. It's okay. How you feeling?" Rose brushed cinnamon colored hair off of the child's forehead and smiled at her.

"Okay." The girl wiped a tear off her rosy cheek. "I finished all my homework. Can I have a snack now?"

"Of course. C'mom, let's get some cookies. Mommy could use a snack, too." Rose glanced out the living room window before leading her daughter to the kitchen. Rose knew she had to be careful now. Callie and Frank Hardy did not seem like the kind of people who would let secrets stay buried.

# # # #

Frank drove himself and Callie to their next appointment – to Rose's mother's house – Blanche Lancaster.

"Dang it," Callie hissed. "I forgot to ask Rose about the ghost." Then Callie thought, what if Rose was the ghost? Callie shook her head, that didn't make sense. Or did it? Good grief, Callie was getting a bit befuddled.

"I think you got as much out of Rose as you were going to get." Frank sounded very rational.

Callie smiled at her husband. "You're probably right. I'm actually surprised she shared as much as she did given the, um, awkward start to the interview."

"I considered her a hostile witness," Frank joked and then sobered. "And I felt she was holding something back. I don't think she told you everything she knew."

"I got that impression, too," Callie said and sighed.

# # # #

Frank parked on the curb in front of an older Victorian home. It was in need of repairs and some serious yardwork. Huge maple trees separated the house from its neighbors. Overgrown grass (dying grass) and weeds filled the fenced front yard. However, the side of the house was different. There, towards the back of the house, was a flower garden surrounded by wire mesh. An older woman, in gardening hat and gloves, was inside the enclosure, hunched over, tending to the flowers. She immediately looked up when Callie and Frank opened their car doors.

Callie closed her door and called out, "Hello, I'm Callie Hardy. I'm looking for Blanche Lancaster."

The woman rose slowly and pulled off her gloves. "I'm Blanche."

Callie pushed open the gate on the low picket fence that surrounded the front yard. The gate creaked and scrapped along the stone path leading to the house. Yes, this home and yard were in dire need of care and attention. Frank followed Callie into the yard. He didn't bother closing the gate. He didn't want to hear the horrible scrapping noise again.

Callie approached Blanche with a hand extended. The women shook hands and Callie said, "Thank you so much for meeting me, Ms. Lancaster and I want you to know, upfront, that I'm here to write an article about your daughter Elizabeth and what happened to her. And, for the record, I am _not_ here to sensationalize the tragedy that you have suffered." Callie felt it best to get this out in the open so Blanche knew exactly where Callie stood.

Callie saw Blanche direct her attention at Frank. "This is my husband Frank. He's .."

"I'm lending a hand," Frank quickly said and reached out a hand which Blanche rather hesitantly shook.

When shaking hands was completed, Blanche pulled her gaze away from Frank and back to Callie. "You made your desires known on the phone, Mrs. Hardy. I have no problem with people looking into my daughter's disappearance. I welcome it. It's been a long time since someone took an active interest in what happened to Liz."

Well, that was good to know Callie thought, truly surprised by Blanche's response. After meeting Rose, Callie had feared the mother would be even more difficult to interview. "Oh, well, that's wonderful," Callie said.

"Would you like some tea?" Blanche asked. "I could use a cup to warm myself up. It won't take but a minute to fix."

Callie smiled. "Yes, that sounds lovely. It is a bit chilly today, isn't it?"

"It is," Blanche agreed. "Come, let's go inside."

Callie and Frank soon found themselves in a tiny kitchen seated at a tiny round table. Frank looked too big for the room. His six-foot-one frame and broad shoulders seemed to take up more than his fair share of the space.

Callie and Frank removed their jackets – something they had not done at Rose's house – and draped them over the back of their chairs.

Blanche hung her tattered gardening coat and hat on a hook by the back door and then went to the stove where she removed a tea kettle and filled it with water at the sink.

"Can I help?" Callie asked anxious to be of service.

"Teacups and saucers are in that cupboard." Blanche nodded at a cupboard. "Teabags are in the canister marked 'tea,' there on the counter." Blanche looked at Frank. "Let's move this table out a bit, young man. You look absolutely scrunched."

Frank – with minimal help from Blanche – moved the table away from the wall and instantly felt better, like he could breathe. Callie placed teacups and saucers on the table and smiled at her husband. It was nice of him to come along on this adventure – inconveniences and all.

"Excuse me a minute," Blanche said, "I'm going to the powder room to wash my face and hands. If the kettle whistles .."

"I'll get it," Callie promised. "Please, don't fret on our accounts. Take your time."

"Very well then." Blanche appeared relieved. "I won't be long."

Once Blanche was out of the room, Frank pulled Callie close and whispered, "Did you notice the flowers in the flower garden?"

Callie stared wide eyed at her husband. "What? No, I was so intent on introducing myself to Blanche that I didn't even look at the garden. Why? What did I miss?"

"Bundles of flowers bound together. They looked exactly like the flowers we found at the white cross this morning."

Callie's hand went to her gaping mouth. "How did I miss that?"

"You were distracted," Frank whispered. "I think you should ask Blanche some questions about her garden."

Callie nodded. "Good idea. I will."

Callie went to the tea canister on the counter and removed the lid. The tea was all the same flavor and brand. Callie withdrew three bags, brought them to the table, and placed one in each teacup.

The kettle whistled and Frank, needing movement, said, "I'll get it."

When Blanche returned to the kitchen, Frank was pouring hot water into the teacups.

"I hope you don't mind," Callie said, thinking maybe she and Frank had overstepped their bounds in readying the tea.

"No, not at all," Blanche said pleasantly and smoothed down her wrinkled shirt. "It's nice to have guests who do not expect to be waited on. I do enough of that – waiting on people – at my job at the café."

Blanche retrieved cream from the fridge and honey from a cupboard, carried them to the table, and sat. Only now did Callie get a good look at the woman. Blanche was fifty-two and judging by the deep lines on her face, life had not been easy for her. Pain and grief had taken their toll. Blanche was thin and her steel gray hair was pulled into a tight bun at the nape of her neck. Her appearance spoke of neglect as if she did not indulge in much self care. Her hands were rough, calloused, and the nails chipped.

Her garden, Callie thought, the woman must spend a lot of time gardening. With that thought in mind, Callie said, "Ms. Lancaster, I was admiring your flower garden. You have quite the green thumb to be able to grow flowers in the fall."

Blanche stirred honey into her tea and sighed. "Ah, my garden." Blanche laid her spoon on her saucer and a small smile cracked the corners of her dry lips. "It sustains me. Gives me life. Gives me a reason … Well, it makes me happy."

And there hasn't been much happiness in your life, has there? Callie thought.

Frank cleared his throat. "Ahem, I noticed you have flowers bundled. Do you sell them?" Frank looked at Callie and wagged an eyebrow. He was getting a jumpstart on the questioning.

Callie sipped her tea and waited for Blanche to answer.

Blanche lifted her teacup. "It's something of a side business. I take flowers to the café where I work. The manager likes to use them as centerpieces on the tables. She pays me for the flowers, not much, but every penny helps. Sometimes a coworker asks for flowers for a special occasion like a birthday or anniversary. I do special flower arrangements for people. I've done a few weddings for local brides. You might say, I've gotten good at making bouquets. Valentine's Day keeps me busy." Blanche smiled, sipped her tea, and said, "All the busboys at the café want flowers for their girls on Valentine's Day. Some even buy flowers for their mothers. I always find that endearing."

Callie saw a light come into Blanche's eyes as she spoke. It was obvious the woman enjoyed providing flowers for her coworkers and making people happy. It was hard to imagine this woman fighting with her teenage daughter years ago. The Blanche that sat before Callie today was subdued, quiet, and meek. She seemed resigned to life, to just going through the motions and grabbing happiness wherever she could find it.

Callie drank more of her tea and wondered how best to transition to the hard questions she had come here to ask. She looked around at the room – at the small, cluttered kitchen. This was the same house Elizabeth and Rose had lived in. Fifteen years ago Blanche and her daughters must have sat at this table sharing meals. Callie found it interesting that Blanche had not moved after Liz went missing.

"I was wondering," Callie said to Blanche, "how long have you lived in this house?"

Blanche eyed Callie for a second then turned her head and stared out a window as if counting the years. Or perhaps, she was envisioning the house – her home and life – years ago.

At last, Blanche said, "A long time. I moved in here when my girls were babies. Well, I called them babies. They were five and three and adorable. Cute as could be, both of them. It was just the three of us. Three peas in a pod I used to say." Her eyes clouded over and she turned somber. "We never had a lot of money. I never was able to take my babies on vacations or buy them new things. I always bought used stuff and secondhand clothes. But I tried to make up for that with love. Lots of love."

Lots of love. Callie wondered if daughter Rose would agree. Callie had sensed in Rose that some of that love was missing.

"You and your daughters were happy here," Callie said.

Blanche nodded. "Yes, for the most part. We had our ups and downs like any family."

Callie hesitated. Was this an admission that there had been fights between mother and daughter? Should Callie ask directly about those fights or was that a bridge too far? Callie also wanted to ask about the night Liz disappeared. However, she feared this would cause Blanche additional pain. Callie felt trapped with nowhere to turn, _all_ of her questions would cause pain.

Finally, Callie decided she had to probe. It was why she was here. If she didn't ask the hard questions she would never find the truth.

"Please forgive me," Callie began, "I know this may be difficult for you, but I would like to hear from you what happened the night Liz disappeared."

Blanche's eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly. "You must know by now what happened. It was in all the papers. I'm sure, being a journalist, you've read them."

"Yes, of course I have, but I'd like to hear your account of that night in your own words. Please." Callie traded glances with Frank. He gave the smallest of shrugs.

Blanche bowed her head and stared at her tea as if reading tea leaves at the bottom. Was she looking for answers? Long lost answers? Finally, she lifted her chin and said, "You spoke to my daughter Rose today." Blanche's tone was neutral, not accusatory.

"I did." Callie held her breath. Was speaking to Rose good, bad, or neither?

"I'm sure she told you what happened." There was a sudden hardness in Blanche's voice.

"She did." Callie sensed a slight change in Blanche's demeanor. "Rose said she last saw Liz at school with Rudy Glynn."

"Rudy." Blanche fixed Callie with a steely glare. "I tried to warn Liz about him." Blanche turned on Frank. "Do you have a job, young man?"

Frank remained calm as was his nature. "Yes, I'm a police officer."

"Good, that's very good." Blanche spun back to Callie. "That's what every mother wants for her daughter, a decent husband, a man with a future. Someone they can depend on to take care of their daughter." Blanche shook her head in a firm and decisive way. "Rudy Glynn was none of those things. _None of them_. Liz was throwing her life away by hitching her wagon to him and I let her know it." Blanche fixed Callie with that steely glare again. "Rudy left town not long after Liz went missing and he's never been heard from since."

"Yes, I know," Callie said softly. "I wonder what became of him?"

Blanche made a disparaging sound under her breath and sipped her tea. Callie drank her tea, too thinking, so Rose had been truthful about the fights between Liz and Blanche.

Blanche set her empty teacup down, ran a finger over the handle, and said, "Rose took her sister's disappearance hard. She was never quite the same afterwards. Sometimes, I'd catch her staring out the window like she was searching for something, like she was expecting to see Liz come walking down the street." There was a quiver in Blanche's voice.

Suddenly, Blanche pushed back her chair and stood. "Well, that's all I have to say. I-I'm sorry, I need to get back to my garden before the sun goes down."

Callie was startled by this abrupt announcement and saw that Frank was, too.

"Oh," Callie said letting the surprise show in her face and tone. "I-I guess we should be going."

She and Frank stood and started to pick up their tea things to carry them to the sink.

"Leave them," Blanche ordered. "I'll do them later."

Stunned, Callie grabbed her jacket off the back of her chair. She wondered why Blanche suddenly seemed to be in a hurry to get rid of them.

Frank grabbed his jacket and said, "Ms. Lancaster, if you don't mind, I'd like to look at your garden. I'd like to buy a bouquet of flowers for my lovely wife. That is, if any are for sell." Frank grinned and winked at Callie.

Callie had an idea of what Frank was up to and, cheeks blushing, demurely grinned back.

The possibility of a sell and making money transformed Blanche back into the woman who had offered Frank and Callie a warm cup of tea. A gracious smile came to her dry lips. "Yes, they're for sell. I'll get my coat and meet you both outside by the garden."

"Thank you," Frank said quickly before Blanche had a change of heart.

He and Callie tugged on their jackets and hurried outside.

"Let's look at those bouquets before Blanche gets out here," Frank said as he and Callie walked briskly to the garden.

A five-foot high wire-mesh fence enclosed the garden. By Frank's estimation the garden area was approximately 30 feet by 40 feet and contained flowers for every season – well, maybe not winter. Along one side of the mesh-fencing was a long wooden table. Atop the table lay a watering can, gardening tools, and a row of prepared bouquets. They were in pans of water to keep them fresh.

Frank pointed at the bouquets. "There."

He and Callie moved to the table for a better view. Husband and wife stood side by side and studied the flowers through the wire mesh.

"They're identical to the bouquet left at the white cross," Callie whispered.

"I agree." Frank glanced over his shoulder and saw Blanche exiting her house. "She's coming."

Blanche had donned her hat, coat, and gloves. As she neared the couple, she called out, "I'm afraid I don't have much for you to choose from. All I have at the moment are my autumn bouquets."

"These," Callie said pointing to the flowers in pans. "They're beautiful."

Blanche smiled as she drew closer to Callie. "Autumn flowers are my favorites. Let's go inside."

Blanche opened a rickety gate on the enclosure and stepped inside. Callie and Frank followed her in and to the wooden table.

"They're all fresh," Blanche said, indicating the flowers with a wave of her hand. "I picked them yesterday morning and bound them with plant fibers. I try to use organic materials whenever possible."

Callie stood at the table admiring the flowers. "You're very talented," Callie said and meant it. The flower arrangements were very artistic. Color and types of flower were combined skillfully with an eye for a pleasing aesthetic. "I also like that you use sustainable materials."

Frank counted eight bouquets. He turned to Blanche and asked, "Do you sell your flowers somewhere in town?"

"I do," Blanche said. "I set up at the Farmers' Market on Saturday mornings."

"Today's Saturday so you were there this morning?" Frank said.

"Yes, from eight till noon," Blanche confirmed.

Callie picked up a bouquet. "I'll take this one."

"How much do I owe you?" Frank asked Blanche.

"Nothing. Please, take them and enjoy them." Blanche appeared reluctant to accept any money. Or was she just anxious to be rid of her guests?

Frank pulled out his wallet. "That's very nice of you, but I insist on paying. You worked hard on the flowers and you've made my wife very happy."

Callie beamed to show this was true.

Blanche hesitated a second before saying, "Three dollars. That's what I sell them for in town."

Frank pulled out a five dollar bill and handed it to Blanche. "Keep the change and thank you for meeting with us."

"And for the tea," Callie added.

"Here, let me wrap the flowers so they don't drip on you." Blanche took the bouquet from Callie, pulled a sheet of brown paper from a carton on the table top, wrapped the bouquet in it, and handed it back to Callie. "Enjoy them, dear."

"I will," Callie assured her.

# # # #

Callie and Frank headed back to the _Bed and Breakfast_. Callie sat in the passenger's seat, the bouquet on her lap, the floral scent filling the car. She looked over at her husband. "Thank you for the flowers, Frank. They're beautiful."

Frank smiled at his wife. "You're beautiful to me." His attention went back to the road and said, "I'll admit I had an ulterior motive for buying them. I think we should take them to the white cross and compare them to the flowers left there."

Callie was happy to hear this. "I was thinking the same thing and I have no doubt they'll match. Whoever left those flowers at the cross must have gotten them from Blanche."

"Blanche could have left the flowers there," Frank said as he watched the road.

Callie considered this possibility. "Hmm, I hadn't thought of that. That does beg the question of, when exactly were the flowers placed in front of the white cross?"

Frank pulled into the parking lot of the _Bed and Breakfast_ and wheeled into a slot. He killed the engine and turned to Callie. "Blanche could have brought a bouquet to the cross late yesterday afternoon after she finished making them."

"True." A frown descended upon Callie's forehead as she stared out the windshield.

"You don't look happy. What's the matter?" Frank asked.

Callie shook her head and gave a little shrug. "I..I've had two interviews today and I feel as if I've botched both of them." She looked into Frank's warm brown eyes. "I never knew interviewing people could be so trying. The emotions of the interviewees has to be considered and, well, I've found the whole process to be tiring."

"It is." Frank grinned. "Hey, don't be too hard on yourself. You're new to this and, in my humble opinion, you're doing just fine. Interviewing people who have lost a family member is never easy, even for experienced interrogators."

Frank leaned over and kissed Callie on the cheek. As she turned her lips to his, he put his left hand on her right shoulder and drew her toward him.

"You're doing a wonderful job, Mrs. Hardy. Don't ever doubt yourself." And then his lips were on hers.

Callie melted into the kiss and felt the tension of the day release. All was right with the world. When the kiss ended, Callie's skin tingled and a pleasant warmth radiated throughout her body.

Frank leaned back in the driver's seat looking quite satisfied. He nodded at Callie. "Shall we head to the white cross?"

Callie drew in a much needed breath and said, "Yes." She peered out the windshield, at the dark sky. "We'd better hurry. The sun will be setting soon."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Blanche watered the mums, one of her favorite flowers, then moved on to the pansies with their smiling faces. After the pansies it was the tassel like amaranths, hanging in all their purple glory. Oh, and she couldn't forget the sunflowers. The birds would never forgive her. They certainly appreciated the seeds at this time of year.

Blanche finished her watering and reeled up the hose. Twilight was coming on and the air was growing chilly. Another cup of tea – herbal – would warm her up and give her time to think, to contemplate what she'd seen.

Inside, she removed her gloves, hat, and coat. Put them on the shelf and hooks by the back door and felt her cat rub against her ankles.

She looked down. "Missy, you old thing. You made yourself scarce today when the Hardys were here, I noticed. Didn't even come out of the bedroom. Just kept napping on the bed." There was no malice in Blanche's voice. She and Missy had lived together for ten years and, God willing, they would see another ten together. Although, Blanche knew that was pushing it.

Blanche filled the cat's food dish, pulled leftovers out of the fridge for herself, and filled the kettle with water. Twenty minutes later Blanche sat at her kitchen table with a steaming cup of tea and a bowl of warm stew.

Missy sat on the cold linoleum floor in the middle of the kitchen. She had eaten, washed her face and ears, and was staring at Blanche with shiny, questioning cat eyes.

"I know, I know," Blanche said. "This isn't our normal routine." That was indeed true. Blanche usually ate her evening meal in the living room in front of the TV. While Blanche watched the five o'clock news Missy curled up on the sofa and cleaned herself. "Now don't look at me like that, Missy. You weren't out here this afternoon. You don't know what happened."

Missy meowed softly.

"Yes, I know you were napping." Blanche spooned some stew into her mouth. "That's why you don't know that I saw the ghost again."

Missy circled round on the braided rug under the table, found an agreeable spot, and laid down. If she had to listen to a story she might as well be comfortable.

"You should've seen me, Missy. I was sitting right here in this chair, staring out the window like I'm doing now and thinking about an answer to a question the young lady had asked and that's when I saw her. The ghost. She gave me quite a fright. The Hardys had their backs to the window so they didn't see her."

Blanche sipped her tea and got a dreamy look in her eye as she remembered the ghost. "She's got long chestnut hair that flies in the wind as she moves. And she has a long white dress that seems to float on the breeze." Blanche waved a hand to simulate the undulating movement of the dress. "I saw her stop and peek over the fence. You know, the fence along the backyard."

Blanche put her tea down, went to the window and stared out, peering at the old wooden fence. Missy lifted her head off her front paws and looked at Blanche, hoping for a treat. When she realized none was coming, she laid her head down and closed her eyes.

Blanche concentrated on the fence. The sky was gray and growing darker by the minute. However, the white fence stood out in the dark. It almost seemed to glow. Beyond the fence lay the woods. The fence came waist high on Blanche. It wasn't much of a barrier. Anyone could hop it. It offered no protection at all. It's only function was to mark the boundary of Blanche's property.

Suddenly, Blanche shuddered and drew the curtains shut in one violent movement. When she turned from the window, her hands were shaking. She looked down at the cat who sensed she was being stared at and opened one slanted eye.

"She looks exactly like Liz. I tell you, Missy, she's the spitting image of Liz fifteen years ago. It's like Liz has come back from the grave."

# # # #

Frank and Callie climbed out of their car. Callie laid the bouquet on the hood of the car while she and Frank zipped up their jackets. Callie picked up the bouquet, held it to her nose, and inhaled. So sweet and fragrant and so kind of Frank to buy them. She slide a hand into Frank's as they walked to the wooden bridge that arched over the creek.

It felt weird to be going back to the cross for a second time in one day, but Callie was excited for the chance to compare her bouquet with the one left at the cross. They hurried along the path, stumbling a bit and laughing at themselves.

At last, they came to the cross … and the flowers. The cross looked lonely in the gathering darkness. The surrounding woods were quiet and still. No chirping birds at this time of the evening. No small animals scurrying through the undergrowth.

Callie crouched before the cross and picked up the now wilted bouquet. She rose and held both sets of flowers out for Frank to inspect.

He examined the bindings and ran a thumb over them. "The bindings are knotted the same way. Identical. These were made by the same person."

Callie looked into her husband's eyes. "Blanche."

Frank nodded. "Yeah, Blanche. Now we need to figure out who left them here and when."

Callie laid the wilted flowers back on the ground, in front of the cross, then straightened. "Blanche could have brought them here, but somehow that doesn't feel right to me."

Frank came up behind Callie and hugged her to him. He spoke over her shoulder, into her ear. "It doesn't feel right to me either. I think the ghost left them here last night."

"That's what I think, too."

# # # #

"Why has she come here?" Blanche cried, directing her comment at Missy. "Two days in a row she's come and peeked over the fence. Is it really Liz? Can it be her?" Blanche ran a shaky hand through her graying hair. "Do you think Liz is checking to see if I still live here?"

Blanche eased onto her chair, put an elbow on the table, and placed her chin on her palm. "Oh Missy, I don't know what to think. Or believe. Am I losing my mind? Am I seeing things that aren't really there?"

Blanche put a hand to her worried brow. "I've longed to see Liz again for so many years. It's broken my heart to live in pain for this long. There's so much I've wanted to say to Liz. So much I should've said. There's a lot I shouldn't have said, too. I-I need to apologize for the hateful things I said back then. The passing years have made me realize I may have gone too far. Said too much when Liz was seventeen. But I said it out of love. I only wanted what was best for my baby. You understand that, don't you?"

Missy pushed off the rug, stretched, and wandered over to Blanche. Missy curled herself around Blanche's ankles and meowed.

Blanche reached down and petted the cat's silky fur. "Oh Missy, you always know when I need a hug and a little comfort."

# # # #

Callie and Frank went back to the _Bed and Breakfast_. It was dark by the time they reached the porch and pulled open the door.

Sheila Donahue was behind the counter and greeted them with a smile. "Haven't seen you two since this morning. How's your day been?"

"Good," Callie said, but her voice lacked conviction.

Sheila cocked her head. "Just good, huh? Your investigation not going so well?"

Callie sighed as she stepped up to the counter. "Honestly? I feel like I've been running around in circles."

Frank stood beside Callie at the counter. "My wife is being too hard on herself," he said.

"You talk to Rose or Blanche Lancaster yet?" Sheila asked with interest.

Callie heaved and nodded. "I did. These flowers came from Blanche's garden." Callie held up her bouquet for Sheila to see.

"They're lovely." Sheila smiled. "Let me put those in a vase for you. You can keep them in your room on the dresser."

Sheila disappeared into the kitchen for a moment and returned with the flowers nicely arranged in a glass vase which she placed on the counter. "There you go."

"Thank you," Callie said. "They're beautiful. I like the way you arranged them."

"I know a little something about flower arranging," Sheila admitted and then switched topics. "Ahem, you were telling me about Rose and Blanche."

"Oh, yes," Callie said. "Neither woman was particularly helpful. Rose was almost hostile when I interviewed her and Blanche, well, I don't know how to describe Blanche."

Frank said, "Initially, she seemed excited about us investigating her daughter's disappearance. She answered a few questions and then abruptly terminated the interview."

Callie looked at husband and then back at Sheila. "It was really weird. We got the distinct impression she wanted us to leave. Do you think talking about her daughter made her sad and she needed space or privacy?"

Sheila scratched her head and shrugged. "Hard to say. I don't know Blanche all that well. She does flowers for us, usually in the summer. I like to have fresh flowers in the window boxes and on the tables. Makes the place look alive. Blanche is very reliable and does great work. However, she can be moody at times. I figure she's entitled. Probably comes from losing a child."

"Yes, I'm sure it does." There was a sadness in Callie's voice.

Sheila shifted yet again and asked, "Have any dinner plans for tonight?"

"The Bobcat Restaurant was nice," Frank said. "We were thinking of going there again unless you have a different recommendation."

A smug smile and nod from Sheila said she did. "You two look like you could use a nice, quiet evening. Some place intimate. Am I right?"

Frank and Callie looked at each other and smiled. It was as if Sheila had read their minds.

"_The Chalet_ is just the place. It's small and cozy and romantic." Sheila wiggled an eyebrow. "It's a little pricey, mind you, but it's worth every penny."

Frank frowned slightly. "It's Saturday night. Will we be able to get a reservation?"

Sheila wagged a finger. "Don't you worry about a thing. I'll call and make a reservation for you. They know me at the Chalet," she said with a wink. "How does seven o'clock sound?"

"Perfect," Frank said. "And thank you."

Frank linked arms with Callie as they walked up the staircase to the second floor and their room.

Callie leaned into her husband and whispered, "Flowers and a fancy dinner all in one day. You're spoiling me."

Frank breathed in the scent of the flowers and smiled. "It's been a while since I bought you flowers or took you out to a nice restaurant. I miss doing that, and besides, you deserve it."

"We deserve it," Callie corrected. "You've been a big help today. And I confess, it's nice to go out and enjoy ourselves and not worry about Eva. Although, I miss her terribly."

Frank saw the sorrow and longing in Callie's eyes. "I miss her, too, but I'm enjoying this time alone with my wife."

The couple arrived at their room.

"I'm enjoying having you all to myself," Callie admitted. "But tomorrow I'd like to do a little shopping before we leave town. I'd like to find a small gift for my parents to thank them for babysitting and maybe we could find a toy for Eva."

Frank withdrew the keycard and slid it into the room door. "I think we can squeeze in some shopping before we leave town. What's on your agenda for tomorrow?"

Frank opened the door and Callie entered, carrying her vase of flowers.

"Visiting the Walnut Creek Police Station," Callie said. "I want to hear the official version of what happened the night Elizabeth Lancaster disappeared."

Frank closed the door and turned to Callie who was setting her vase of flowers on the chest of drawers. "I wouldn't get my hopes up if I were you. Tomorrow's Sunday. A small police station like Walnut Creek may not have anyone on duty."

A devious smile curled the corners of Callie's mouth. "You have underestimated me, my dear husband. I called ahead, before we left home, and arranged a meeting with Deputy Paul. He told me he was on duty the night Elizabeth disappeared and he remembers that night like it was yesterday. He said he would be happy to talk to me. He's semi-retired and works Sundays at the Station so the younger men can have the weekends off to spend with their families."

Frank tugged of his jacket as he chuckled. "Seems I have underestimated you. I'll try to remember not to do that again."

Callie unzipped her jacket and pulled it off. "No, I like it when you underestimate me. It's kinda fun."

"Is it?" Frank, still smiling, tossed his jacket on the bed. When Callie was happy, he was happy. Happy wife, happy life. Truer words had never been spoken, or was it written? "What now?" he asked. He had a few ideas he wouldn't mind putting into action. "We have two hours until our dinner reservation." Had the huskiness in his voice given Callie a clue as to what he was thinking?

If it had, she chose to ignore it. "We have to call home. I'm dying to talk to Eva. I haven't heard her sweet little voice in .. in I don't know how many hours."

"Too many." Frank laughed. So much for his ideas. "I'll get my laptop and we can Skype with your parents."

"Perfect idea. Oh, I love you so much." Callie threw her arms around Frank's neck and kissed him passionately.

Frank cradled Callie's head with one hand and put the other hand low on her back. They kissed long and slow. His hand started sliding .. down .. to the swell of her hips. Those ideas might yet be put into action.

Callie broke the kiss and grinned, fully aware of Frank's ideas. "Phone call first, hon. I have to see and hear our little girl. My mother's heart can't wait another minute."

Frank laughed and loosened his grip on Callie. "Well, when you put it that way … Okay, getting the laptop now."

Callie gave Frank a quick kiss on the cheek. "Thank you. I'll hang up our jackets while you get the laptop."

# # # #

The phone call home was a balm to Callie's troubled mind. At some unconscious level she carried secret fears about Eva's safety and happiness. Came with the territory, Callie told herself. Mothers always worried about their children's safety especially, when they were separated. Hearing and seeing Eva soon put Callie's fears to rest.

Eva sat on her Grandmother's lap and her tiny face lit up when she saw Callie and Frank's smiling faces on the computer screen.

"Dada! Dada!" she shouted, clapping her chubby little hands and kicking her legs.

Such a happy child. Callie was beyond grateful. Seeing Eva's beaming face and shining eyes was a true blessing.

As joyous as the call was, the end was rather heartbreaking. Eva stretched her hands toward the computer screen trying to touch her parents.

Callie blew her daughter kisses. "Daddy and mommy will see you soon, sweetie. We'll be home tomorrow. Be good for grandma and grandpa."

Good-byes. Oh how Callie hated them, they were so hard. Fortunately, Callie's mother called half an hour later to say that, yes, Eva had been fussy and whiny after Skyping, but Grandpa had saved the day. He'd pulled out Eva's favorite stuffed animals and had played beep-a-boo with the toddler. Soon, Eva was giggling and begging for, "Mo, mo." Her word for 'more.'

If only she could learn to say mama, Callie thought as thanked her mother for the update. Patience, she told herself. Good things came to those who waited.

# # # #

Callie and Frank had a wonderful meal at _the Chalet_. It was a bit expensive, but Callie and Frank reasoned it was worth the cost. When would they get another chance like this, to eat in a fancy restaurant, enjoy fine wine and a charming, Victorian atmosphere? A wondrous, romantic vibe surrounded the couple and flowed along with them back to their room.

The bed was just as comfortable as it had been the previous night and Frank was finally able to put into action some of the ideas he'd had earlier in the evening.

In the dark room, Callie lay snuggled next to Frank, his arm draped across her waist. She thought of how much she loved this bed, this room, and this man. She and Frank had made some wonderful memories here. This trip hadn't just been about an investigation. It had also, unexpectedly, been about reaffirming their love.

I am a lucky woman, Callie thought as she fell asleep.

* * *

_A/N: Thank you dear readers for your reviews. Your thoughts and comments are greatly appreciated. :)_


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Deputy Paul had a square face and bushy white hair. He was in his early sixties and his expanding waistline said he enjoyed his wife's cooking. He sat at a desk in the Walnut Creek Police Station and told Callie and Frank about the night Liz disappeared. "It was bitterly cold that night," he said.

Callie shifted in her chair and crossed her jean-clad legs. Paul had spent more time talking about the weather than the actual events of the night Elizabeth Lancaster had disappeared. Still, Callie was grateful he'd agreed to meet with her. Frank sat to her left and seemed genuinely interested in every word Paul spoke. Callie wondered if she was missing something.

Frank spoke, startling Callie, "The jacket and tennis shoes that were found by the creek, they had blood on them?"

Deputy Paul nodded solemnly. "Yeah, the blood was on the inside of the jacket and the inside of the shoes. The jacket was a rain slicker which was a lucky break for us. It was laid over the shoes and kept the blood from been washed away in the rain that night. We really got lucky finding those two items. It's amazing they were still there the next day."

"And with blood on them," Frank mused. "The blood allowed you to positively identify them as belonging to Liz."

"True," Paul said. "But the mother .. what was her name?"

"Blanche," Callie supplied.

"Yeah, Blanche. She still lives in town. Sells flowers I hear."

"She does," Callie said. "You were saying, the mother .."

"Yeah, the mother identified the jacket and shoes right away as being Liz's. So even without the blood we had a positive ID on the jacket and shoes."

Frank frowned, leaned forward in his chair and put his forearms on his thighs. "The blood, was there a lot of it?"

Paul shrugged. His weathered and lined face scrunched in thought, in consideration of the question. "Not really and that caused a lot of discussion within the department. We were of the opinion there wasn't enough blood to say Liz had died."

"Where, inside the jacket, was the blood located?" Frank asked.

"Here." Paul indicated his stomach area. "Now if Liz had been stabbed in the gut, there would've been a lot more blood. What we saw on her jacket was more consistent with, say, a cut wrist."

"A possible suicide attempt?" Frank said.

Deputy Paul's expression grew sad. "That's the conclusion we in the department came to. Teenagers are a temperamental munch as we all know and Liz Lancaster wouldn't be the first teen to commit suicide."

"Did you mention this theory to her mother?" Callie asked.

Paul appeared uncomfortable. "We did and she said we were dead wrong. I quote, 'her baby would never do anything like that.' Course she wouldn't be the first parent to deny the possibility of their child taking their own life. Who wants to believe their child killed themselves? It's heartbreaking. You wish your child had come to you with whatever was troubling them."

"Yes," Callie said quietly and jotted notes on her notepad. Deputy Paul was proving to be helpful after all.

"The blood inside the shoes," Frank said, "what was your explanation for that?"

Callie lifted her head and looked at her husband with admiration. Yes, how did blood get inside the shoes?

Deputy Paul leaned back in his chair. It was obvious he enjoyed the questions, enjoyed being part of a sort of new investigation of the case. "We wondered about that, too. Seemed a little odd to us until we talked to a couple of doctors. Both said – given the suicide scenario – that Liz was probably sitting cross-legged on the ground, hunched over her feet and shoes." Paul leaned forward, over his large stomach, to demonstrate. "See, she's like this. She's got a knife in one hand, got her elbows on her thighs, she leans over her lap and cuts her wrist."

Frank nodded as an image crystallized in his mind. "The blood from her wrist drops onto her socks and shoes."

"And some of that blood trickles down into her shoes," Paul said. "We didn't find a lot of blood in the shoes, just enough to fit the scenario."

Inner confusion showed in Callie's furrowed brow. "I read all the newspaper articles and I never saw the possibility of suicide mentioned in any of them."

"Well, Ms. Hardy, Walnut Creek is a small town," Paul said gently. "Folks here don't like upsetting their neighbors and that's all we'd have been doing if we'd put that in the paper. You see, all we'd have accomplished would be getting Blanche Lancaster tied up in knots. And for what? A theory we had? A possibility? We weren't sure of anything back then. Yeah, it looked like Liz might've committed suicide, but we couldn't say that for sure. We couldn't go putting theories – speculations – in the newspaper. Not around here. We didn't want to sully Liz's good name. She was a straight A student with a bright future. All her teachers loved her. No one had a bad word to say about her. Not exactly the kind of teen you expect to commit suicide."

One delicate eyebrow quirked and Callie said, "Sometimes, those are exactly the students who do. The expectations they set for themselves are too high, too overwhelming .."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Paul admitted. "But like I said, we just weren't sure. No need to set people in town talking about what ifs and maybes."

Callie nodded that she understood, but part of her wasn't sure she did. "Let me ask you about Tara, the young woman who worked at the _Walnut Creek Bed and Breakfast_. Tara was, allegedly, the last person to see Liz alive. Whatever happened to Tara?"

Paul chuckled under his breath as if highly amused. "Tara? The receptionist and housekeeper? She was what you call, an unreliable witness. Her story changed every time we talked to her. She was consistent about when Liz arrived at the B and B that night. She said Rudy dropped Liz off at the entrance at seven PM. After that, Tara's story isn't so reliable. One time she's telling us Liz left shortly after she arrived, just stayed a couple of minutes and said she had to leave. Next time she's telling us Liz left at eight-forty-five. Got to where we didn't put a lot of faith in anything Tara Spencer told us."

_Spencer_. Finally, Callie had a last name for the young woman. "Is Tara still in town?"

"If I remember correctly, she got marry to someone from a nearby town and moved there. Please, don't hold me to that though."

When Callie did not ask an immediate follow up question, Frank said, "I've been thinking about the jacket and shoes that Liz left on the bank of the creek. I'd like to hear your thoughts on why she left them there."

A light shone in Paul's brown eyes. "Our working theory was that she realized that slitting her wrists and waiting to bleed out wasn't the best way to commit suicide. Statistics show it's near impossible to bleed out from cutting your wrists. You'd have to practically cut your hand off."

Frank nodded. This was his line of reasoning, too.

"So," Paul continued, "she decided to jump, or wade into the creek. By then the rain was coming down pretty good and it was cold. If she didn't drown then hypothermia would eventually get her. One way or another she wasn't going to survive."

Frank nodded agreement. "That's what I was thinking. So, she left the jacket and shoes .. why?"

Paul stroked his chin. "Hard to say why or what she was thinking. Probably wasn't in a rational state of mind. Who is when they're sitting on a wet bank in the pouring rain contemplating suicide? Best we could figure was she thought jumping in the icy water with less clothes on would get her colder faster. Hypothermia would be quicker."

"No way to change her mind either," Callie said softly and the men looked at her. She traded glanced with Paul and Frank. "If she really wanted to commit suicide she'd want it to be quick. Well, at least I think she would want it to be quick."

After a moment of silence, Paul said, "That's how we saw it. She didn't want to fail again."

# # # #

Two hours later Frank and Callie were headed home. They had gone shopping after talking with Deputy Paul and had found a gift for Callie's parents and a shape sorter toy for Eva. Frank and Callie had even gotten lunch before hitting the road.

Frank was a dedicated student of his wife's moods and knew the signs when she was troubled. "Callie, you awfully quiet. Anything wrong?"

Callie sighed as if the weight of the world was on her shoulders. "No, just organizing thoughts, trying to decide what to put in my article and what to leave out."

"You got a lot of information these past two days. It's going to be tough to decide."

"Kind of." Callie watched the trees flash by outside the windows. "Seems every person I spoke to had a different view, or perceptive, on Elizabeth Lancaster. I'm not sure what to make of her. Was she really a troubled teen who committed suicide?"

"Hard to say and we may never know," Frank said with the wisdom of a police officer.

"Neither Blanche nor Rose brought up suicide as a possibility for Liz's disappearance. I have to admit that I'm baffled as to what happened to Liz. I hate to think that she's dead. I know that's my motherly heart talking. I feel for Blanche and all these years that she's been without her daughter. How hard it's been for her. I can't imagine losing Eva. I don't think I could go on living."

Frank heard the tremor in Callie's voice and put a hand on hers. Callie's emotions ran deep. It was one of the many reasons Frank loved her so much. Her passion. "Let's not think sad thoughts. We'll be home soon and I want you to be happy."

Callie squeezed Frank's hand. "I'm sorry. You know how I get. Sometimes my emotions overwhelm me. But you're right, I'm anxious to see Eva and hold her in my arms. Once I see her my world will be whole again."

Frank smiled. "Mine, too."

* * *

_A/N: Sorry for the short chapter and long delay in posting. The next chapter should be the final chapter. Thank you to everyone reading and especially to those who have been kind enough to leave a comment. :)_


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

The weather outside was gray and dismal much like Callie's current mood. A newspaper was open on her dining room table. She sat at the table, sipping tea. A few feet away Eva sat on the living room carpet playing with blocks, making a tower. Callie could see and hear her daughter. Eva was making happy noises as her tower grew higher.

Callie pulled the paper closer and read through her article for a second time. _The Legend of Elizabeth Lancaster by Callie Shaw_. Callie still felt a sense of pride whenever she saw her name in print. It signified she was on her way to becoming an investigative journalist, a goal she had set for herself in high school.

This story – the story of Elizabeth Lancaster – was extra special. It had been a big hit with the local community, perhaps, because of the timing. The article had been published right before Halloween. Or perhaps it was Callie's pictures of the white cross and flowers which were printed above the story. They had lent an air of authenticity to the events.

Mr. Calabrese, Callie's boss, had been delighted with the article and had praised Callie nonstop. Or so it had seemed. He'd suggested she do more stories along these lines – mysteries and legends.

"This is where the money's at," he'd said with a wink and a smile.

A greedy smile, Callie had thought and felt uncomfortable. Writing, for her, wasn't just about making money. It was about teaching people about the past, or solving mysteries and helping people. A pang of regret trickled down Callie's spine. She had failed Blanche and Rose. She was no closer to finding out what had happened to Elizabeth now than she was back in October.

Today was the first of December. Halloween had come and gone. Thanksgiving had, too. Callie, Frank, and Eva had spent the holiday at Frank's parents' house. Callie's parents had been there, too. Oh how nice it had been to be with family. Callie had even forgotten about Elizabeth, Rose, and Blanche for a little while.

But now? Now, Callie was at loose ends and thinking about Elizabeth again. Callie hadn't solved the mystery of the teen's disappearance and she desperately wanted to. But where to start?

"Paw, paw!" Eva toddled over to Callie and held up a square block for her mother's inspection.

"Yes munchkin, it's a lovely block. Can you say block?"

"Paw, paw," Eva insisted, resting a hand on Callie's thigh for stability. "Paw, paw."

"Oh, you're thinking of your grandpa, aren't you? He played blocks with you when he and grandma babysat." Callie ran a hand gently over Eva's dark hair. So like Frank's dark locks, she thought.

Eva's eyes shone with curiosity. "Paw, paw."

Callie laughed. "Well, you've certainly got Papa – grandpa – on the brain today, haven't you?" And then something sparked deep within the recesses of Callie's brain. Something small.

Eva tapped the block on Callie's thigh a few times then turned and toddled back to the living room where she plopped, ungracefully, on the carpet.

"Paw," Callie muttered to herself. "Paw … Paw … Paul! Deputy Paul?" No, something else. There was another Paul.

Frowning, Callie pushed back from the table and hurried into the spare bedroom. It was part office and part guest room. She found her notepad from October and carried it back to the dining table. Eva was lying on the carpet smacking two blocks together. She appeared to be getting tired. It was nearing time for her afternoon nap.

Callie sat at the table and flipped through the pages of her notepad. Yes, there it was. St. Paul's. That was the other Paul. St. Paul's Catholic Church. Rose had said she'd been there once upon a time. A high school friend had gotten married there.

Callie thought back to her interview with Rose. Rose had been rather disagreeable and hostile. When she had mentioned the church she had instantly looked aghast as though she'd said something wrong. What had Rose said that was wrong?

"Hmmm." Callie rose from the table, an idea starting to form in her mind. She needed to go to St. Paul's and check their records.

# # # #

Callie pushed the stroller – with a sleeping Eva nestled inside – into the church office. The child had fallen asleep on the drive to the church just as Callie had hoped she would. A sleeping Eva would give Callie uninterrupted time to do research.

Berta, an older woman, working behind a desk looked up at Callie's entrance. Berta brushed a stray strand of gray hair off her forehead and smiled. "Afternoon, Callie. Here to look through the records?"

Callie nodded as Berta rose from behind her desk. "What years will you need? Eighteen hundreds or seventeen hundreds?"

"Neither," Callie said. "I'd like to look at records from fifteen to fourteen years ago."

"Oh." Berta's smile faded and she looked as though she might refuse Callie's request.

Callie's heart began to sink. "Is that a problem?"

"No, of course not." Berta's smile returned. "You just surprised me. I'm so used to you delving into the past. You've never asked for recent records before. May I ask what you're working on that requires a search of more current records?"

Callie had an answer prepared. She'd thought it up during the drive to the church. "Someone has asked me to do a little research on their family tree. I figured it would be easiest to start close to the present day and work my way back to the past."

Berta nodded and her eyes shone with the wisdom of a sage. "Ah, yes, that would be the best way to do it. Give me a minute to get the books."

Callie breathed a sigh of relief as Berta took a moment to peek into the stroller and smile sweetly at Eva.

"Such a precious little one." Berta straightened up and brushed the annoying stray strand of hair off her forehead again. "With her napping you'll be able to search the records in peace."

Callie wore a smug grin. "That's the idea. And thank you, Berta, for all your help."

# # # #

Frank pulled his vehicle into the garage and turned off the engine. It was six p.m. and dark. He hadn't seen any lights on in the house and that had him concerned. It meant Callie and Eva were not home. At this hour? Where could they be?

Frank also noted that Callie's car was not in the garage. Well, that confirmed it. She must have gone out. Maybe to get milk or eggs, something they tended to run out of quickly.

As Frank got out of his car he wondered if a quick stop at the market couldn't have waited until morning.

Frank unlocked the door leading into the kitchen from the garage and flipped on the light. Everything looked normal. Nothing was out of place. He shrugged off his jacket and hung it on a hook by the back door. Maybe Callie had left a note.

He went through the house turning on lights and searching for a note. He came up empty and wound up standing in the master bedroom growing more concerned. Callie was usually very good about leaving a note or calling or texting. He checked his phone. No texts or missed calls. So, where was she? Wherever she was she had Eva with her.

He dialed his wife's number. It rang and rang. That wasn't good. He ended the call and an overwhelming fear started to grow in his gut. His mind started preparing a plan of action, steps to take in case of this or that. Then he heard the back door creak open and Callie's voice.

Frank's relief was palpable. Relief had never tasted so good. His body tingled from the sudden change in emotion.

He called out as he made his way rapidly from the bedroom to the kitchen, "Callie? Babe, is that you?"

And there she was with Eva in her arms and a diaper bag slung over her shoulder. Callie and Eva both appeared exhausted. Eva was whining and Callie gratefully handed the fussy baby into Frank's outstretched arms.

"There, there Pumpkin," Frank cooed as he patted his daughter's back. She felt so good in his arms, so warm and soft. His world was complete now that his two girls were safely home. However, he had questions.

"She's hungry," Callie said, fatigue lacing her voice. She plopped the diaper bag on a chair at the dinette, pulled off her winter jacket, draped it on a chair, and turned to the kitchen cupboards. "I'll warm some baby food for her. Oh, I got us a pizza. It's still in the car. I didn't have enough hands to carry it in."

"I'll get it." Frank took Eva to the living room and sat her on the rug next to her toy blocks. He tugged off her little pink jacket and said, "Daddy will be right back."

"Dada! Dada!" Eva started crying and reached her tiny arms up, begging to be picked up.

"I'll get her," Callie said from the kitchen. Eva's food was in the microwave warming up. It would be ready in seconds.

By the time Frank returned from the garage with the pizza Callie had a fussing Eva in her highchair and was putting a bib around the little girl's neck.

Frank placed the pizza box on the table. "I'm going to change clothes. Be back in a sec." And once he returned to the kitchen, he wanted answers to some very important questions. The big one being, where had Callie been this afternoon?

Frank took off his patrolman's uniform and hung it neatly in the closet. He put on jeans and a sweatshirt and returned to the kitchen. Eva was happily eating peas. Frank inwardly shuddered. Peas were not one of his favorite foods, but he was glad Eva found them delicious. She carefully picked one up and put it in her mouth. A baby spoon went unused in her left hand. Eva tended to use the spoon more for banging on her highchair tray than for scooping up food.

"Here you go." Callie set a plate with two slices of pizza at Frank's place at the table. A plate with two slices was already at Callie's place. "I'm making hot tea. Want a cup?"

"I'll have water. Thanks anyway." Frank got a glass from the cupboard and filled it at the sink. He watched Callie pour hot water from the kettle into a teacup. "So," he said, "why were you late getting home this evening?" He'd tried to make his tone sound casual.

Callie smiled at him. "I was talking to Mrs. Harper."

Frank frowned. Well, that didn't explain a thing.

Callie carried her hot tea to the table and sat down. She checked on Eva and gave her more peas and carrots. "You are hungry tonight, aren't you, Sweetie?"

Frank sat at his place at the table. "Who's Mrs. Harper and why were you talking to her?" Did his tone sound harsh?

Callie looked directly at Frank, one eyebrow arching slightly. "She's an older woman in her sixties who loves to talk. She knew Robert and Eliza Newbern."

"Okay." Frank wondered if this was supposed to make any sense. He was a bit distracted by the smell of pizza – one of his favorite foods. However, he remained focused on his wife, waiting for an explanation as to who Mrs. Harper was and now Robert and Eliza Newbern.

"Not very original, is it?" Callie said then picked up a slice of pizza and took a bite.

"What's not very original?" Frank was becoming mildly frustrated. Callie seemed to be talking in tongues.

She stared at him as if he were dense, swallowed, and said, "Frank, please try and keep up."

"I am trying." Okay, that time his tone was definitely harsh.

Callie looked at Frank, saw the crease between his brows and the dour frown. He was puzzled. She laid her pizza on her plate and dapped the corners of her mouth with a napkin. "I'm sorry. It's been a long day and I'm tired. Let me back up and explain things properly."

"Thank you, that would be nice." Frank gave her a grateful nod.

Callie leaned back in her chair with her cup of tea. "Robert and Eliza Newbern, AKA Rudy Glynn and Elizabeth Lancaster, lived next door to Mrs. Harper for close to thirteen years."

Aha! Finally, Frank had some context for the conversation – Elizabeth Lancaster. He hadn't thought of her in months.

"Elizabeth and Rudy got married here in Evertville," Callie said, "shortly after she disappeared."

Frank's dark eyes flashed with interest. "So she didn't drown in the creek and she didn't commit suicide. How did you find out they were married?"

Callie tipped her head toward Eva who was rubbing her eyes and looking very tired. "Our daughter was saying, 'papa' over and over this afternoon when I was rereading the article I had written about Elizabeth Lancaster. The way Eva said papa made it sound like the name Paul. Paul, Paul. That made reminded me of Deputy Paul in Walnut Creek. Thinking about him brought back a memory. I suddenly remembered that when we interviewed Rose she had mentioned St. Paul's Catholic Church, the one here in Evertville. She said a friend from high school had gotten married there. I started to wonder, what if it wasn't a friend. What if it was actually her sister?"

Frank smiled broadly. "Ahhh, good thinking. I like the way your mind works."

Callie gave Frank a coy smile, sipped her tea, and said, "I took Eva and went to the church – St. Paul's. While Eva napped in her stroller, I searched the church records. I found Robert and Eliza Newbern who were married one month after Elizabeth's disappearance. I thought that might be more than a coincidence."

Frank could see that Callie was very proud of her discovery.

"The name Newbern," Callie explained, "stood out to me. It's similar to Newborn. They just changed one letter. Rudy and Elizabeth were reborn as Robert and Eliza Newbern."

"So it seems," Frank said. "How can you be so sure this Newbern couple is in fact Rudy and Elizabeth?"

Callie put her tea down, picked up her pizza, and wiggled an eyebrow. "I searched for births and ten months after their marriage, Mr. and Mrs. Newbern had a christening at St. Paul's for their baby girl. The only guest was a Mrs. Harper."

Frank picked up his slice of pizza. "The Mrs. Harper that lived next to the Newberns for thirteen years." See Frank had been listening.

"Yes," Callie said and bit into her pizza.

As they ate their pizza, Callie explained how Berta at the library had known Mrs. Lillian Harper for many years. The women had gone to high school together over forty years ago and had remained friends. Berta gave Callie Lillian Harper's address. Lillian was widowed and lonely, Berta had said. Lillian would welcome visitors, especially since Berta called ahead and vouched for Callie.

Callie told Frank how she had descended upon Mrs. Harper at three in the afternoon with Eva in tow. Callie and Lillian had hit it off immediately and spent two lovely hours chatting. Lillian Harper's children, a son and daughter, had moved away years ago – shortly after the Newberns had moved in to be precise. Her son and daughter were married now and had small children of their own and came to visit only at holidays.

Lillian missed her grandchildren and was quite happy to welcome Eva into her home. She even possessed a trunk of toys tucked away in the living room.

Opening the trunk, Lillian had invited Eva to play. "Here, Sweetie. I bet you'll enjoy some of these toys. I keep them here for my grandkids when they come to visit."

"Eva was content to play with toys," Callie said, "while Lillian and I sipped herbal tea and talked about Robert and Eliza."

Callie went on to tell Frank everything she had learned from Lillian. Eliza was pregnant when she and Robert moved into the house next door to Lillian and Lillian quickly became a grandmother figure to the couple's little girl whom they had named Isabelle. Lillian admitted she loved the child dearly and spoke of how beautiful she was.

A year before the Newberns moved in, Lillian's husband had suffered a fatal heart attack. Her world was shattered, turned upside down, and she was in shock. Her son and daughter left home in the following years and she admitted to Callie that she would have been very lonely if not for the friendship of the Newberns. Their daughter, Isabelle, held a special place in Lillian's heart and still did. Perhaps that was because it was Lillian who acted as a caregiver for Isabelle through the years. While Isabelle's parents worked, Lillian was there, day after day caring for her. Of course, as Isabelle grew, Lillian's care was not needed as much, but she and the girl remained close.

"Just like a real grandmother and granddaughter," Lillian had said.

With teary eyes, Lillian confessed to being heartbroken when Eliza informed her the family was moving away. Far away. Out of town.

"Eliza said they were moving back to their hometown." Lillian brushed a tear from her eye. "I miss them so very much. Isabelle still phones me once a week and we chat, but it's not the same. I miss having her sitting here – just as you are today, Ms. Hardy, and talking to me." Lillian gave Callie a watery smile. "I miss our little talks."

"I'm sure you do," Callie had said. "How long has it been since the Newberns moved?"

"Two years." Lillian had sighed sadly. "It's been two long years. Isabelle was thirteen and deeply unhappy about the move. She had friends here. Her whole life was here. She didn't understand why they were suddenly moving."

Callie leaned forward. "Why were the Newberns suddenly moving? Did Eliza say?"

Lillian's expression turned grim. "She said she wanted to be near her family. She also said she had done some things in the past that she wasn't proud of and that now it was time to go home. It was time for her to atone for those mistakes."

Callie frowned hard. "That sounds rather ominous. Past mistakes and the need for atonement."

Lillian nodded. "Yes, I thought so, too, but I didn't feel comfortable pursuing the subject. If Eliza wanted me to know what her past mistakes were I felt she would have told me. You see, she and her husband were very closed lipped about their past. They never once said a word about their families or where they had lived before moving here. The few times I asked questions regarding their families they would either ignore the question or change the subject. I soon learned not to ask those types of questions. I valued their friendship, Ms. Hardy, and didn't want to lose it."

Callie laid a hand on Lillian's veined one. "I understand and probably would have done the same if I were in your situation."

Callie picked up her plate and carried it to the dishwasher. She spoke over her shoulder to Frank. "So you see why I have to go back to Walnut Creek. I have to speak to Eliza and Robert Newbern."

Frank jerked his head up. "What? Is that wise? What if Eliza and Robert don't want to be found? You might be walking into a hornet's nest."

Callie bent forward and slid her plate into the dishwasher rack. When she returned to the table to gather up Eva's bowl and baby spoon, Frank saw just how exhausted she was.

"You can come with me, Frank," she said with a tired grin and picked up Eva's bowl and spoon. "There now, little one. It's almost bath time."

"Ba, ba, ba," Eva cooed and rubbed her eyes.

Frank pushed back from the table and stood. "I'll give her her bath." He smiled at his daughter and wiped her face with a damp napkin.

"Thanks," Callie said. "I'll finish cleaning the kitchen."

Much later, Eva was bathed and nestled in her crib, sleeping soundly. Frank doubted she would woke at all tonight.

In the master bedroom, Callie lay in bed, on her side. Frank watched her for a moment, thinking, she might already be asleep. He turned off the bedside lamp, slid under the sheets, and next to his wife. He wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her freshly shampooed hair.

"God, you smell good."

Callie murmured softly.

Frank propped himself on an elbow and ran a hand lightly down Callie's arm. "Already asleep, hon?"

Callie mumbled, "Not quite." Her eyes remained shut.

"Just one thing before you fall asleep," Frank said. "I do want to go with you when you talk to Eliza and Robert Newbern."

Callie stirred, smiled slightly, and peered sleepy-eyed at Frank. "I figured you would. I'll call them tomorrow and arrange a time to meet with them when you're off duty."

"Thank you. Now you can go to sleep." Frank kissed Callie's cheek. "I love you."

"Love you, too." Callie closed her eyes and fell asleep.

Frank laid his head on his pillow and thought over everything Callie had told him tonight. The tangled story of Elizabeth Lancaster and Rudy Glynn. Their story was as old as time. It appeared they had skipped town and gotten married. Young love made people do crazy things. Spontaneous things.

Elizabeth would have been under-aged. Only seventeen. Had she lied about her age when she and Rudy wed? They had certainly lied about their names. Created new ones and new lives.

Was Liz pregnant when they got married? Is that why they ran away? If so, Frank understood the reasoning. Liz and Rudy would not be the first couple – or the last - to run away from home and get married because they had a baby on the way.

What Frank really wanted to know was, why had Liz and Rudy moved back to Walnut Creek two years ago? And more importantly, why hadn't they contacted Elizabeth's mother or sister during those two years?

Frank felt the pull of sleep. Hopefully, his questions would be answered when he and Callie spoke to the couple.

* * *

_A/N: I am so not good at knowing how many more chapters there will be. Thought this would be the last and it isn't. One more chapter to go and then the story will be complete. Thank you, dearly, to those who have left a comment. I have been working on this chapter here and there. With everything that's going on in the world (the virus) I just haven't had the desire to write. I've been involved in other things. Hope everyone is staying safe and not getting cabin fever._


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

A week later, on a cold December day, Frank and Callie pulled up to the home of Eliza and Robert Newbern. Eva was home spending a wonderful afternoon and night with Callie's parents. Callie and Frank were spending the night at the _Walnut Creek Bed and Breakfast_. Frank had requested the same room again.

Eliza and Robert's home was situated five miles outside of Walnut Creek. A big, red barn loomed beyond the house. Snow covered fields lay to the west and a fenced meadow lay to the east. Eliza had told Callie that she and Robert were farmers. It was how they made their living. They sold eggs, milk, cheese, and butter, as well as homemade pies and bread.

"Please, call me Eliza," she had insisted on the phone. "I don't go by Elizabeth. Haven't in fifteen years."

As Frank turned off the engine, Callie pondered the questions she had for Eliza and Robert Newbern. Truthfully, Callie was still amazed at how easily Eliza had agreed to this meeting.

"I've waited fifteen years for this day," Eliza had explained. "I'm not sure if I'm ready for it, but I know it's time. It's time for people to hear my story. I read the article you wrote, Ms. Shaw, and I realized that people haven't forgotten me. Apparently, I'm something of a legend in Walnut Creek. And now, there's a ghost showing up in town pretending to be me. Well, it's time for the truth to come out and, just so you know, I'm not a ghost."

Callie had laughed. "Well, I didn't think you were. A ghost. The ghost is probably teenagers putting on a show at night – you know, to try and scare people. Oh, and by the way, I'm married. My married name is Hardy. I write under my maiden name Shaw." It was a small quirk that Callie possessed. Her writing career – however great it might one day be – would be done under her maiden name.

So, here they were, Callie and Frank, walking to the front door of Eliza and Robert Newbern's house. The door opened as Callie and Frank ascended the porch steps. Callie looked up and into the smiling face of Eliza. She was thirty-two and very pretty. The years had been kind to her. Her long coffee colored hair was pulled back into a braid. Her clothes were modest and old-fashioned – something a farmer's wife from the 30s or 40s might wear – a housedress and apron.

"Welcome and come in," Eliza said and pushed open the door.

Callie saw Robert Newbern standing inside. He was tall, broad shouldered, and dressed in faded overalls. He stood somewhat hunched, looking somewhat subdued. No welcoming smile graced his face. Defeat or wariness would best describe his expression. Callie thought, _Eliza is ready to reveal the truth to the world, but Robert is not, or at least he is not sure it's a good idea_.

After introductions were exchanged and coats taken, the two couples moved to the living room. A fire crackled in the stone hearth. The house was warm and cozy. Wooden beams lined the ceiling. Callie noted a handmade quilt on a chair and handstitched pictures on the walls. Eliza displayed the same creative talent as her mother. Blanche worked with flowers and Eliza worked with fabric.

Coffee was served with cookies and everyone settled back into their seats – Eliza and Robert on the couch, Frank and Callie in matching chairs across from them. A handmade, wooden coffee table separated the couples. Callie suspected Robert had made it.

Callie's notepad and pen lay ready on her lap. She eased into her questions, feeling her way, and encountering no resistance from Eliza. The woman was truly ready to tell her story. Eliza reached over, covered Robert's hand with her own, and their fingers entwined. Eliza peered into her husband's deep-set eyes as if asking for his assurance. He hesitated a second and then nodded. With that final confirmation, Eliza turned to Callie and Frank and told them what had happened that rainy night fifteen years ago.

A month before that fateful October night, Eliza had discovered she was pregnant. Fear was her first response. Her mother would be upset … disappointed … angry … beyond mad. Her mother did not like Rudy Glynn and had made that very clear countless times.

Eliza imagined her mother's words, "I told you no good would come from being with Rudy Glynn!"

Much more hateful things were sure to be said. Eliza wanted no part of it. Her mother had made her position very clear for the past year, from the moment Eliza and Rudy had started dating. No, Eliza could not go to her mother with this news. Instead, her mother would never know that Eliza was pregnant. Eliza would leave. Disappear. Be thought dead. It felt as if she were already dead to her mother.

Eliza had lain awake at night thinking about her future, about her life and what she wanted. She was pregnant and should be happy. Yes, she was young, too young, but she was in love. In her heart, it was true love. Rudy had said the same thing. He told her he felt the same way.

A child was a blessing, a gift to be cherished. Eliza did not think her mother would be able to see that, not in this situation.

Eliza and Rudy spent days discussing their situation. Rudy admitted he had been shocked at first upon learning Eliza was pregnant. He should not have been. They had not been diligent about using birth control.

In those early days, Eliza feared she and Rudy would break up. Perhaps, the thought of a child to support would scare him, cause him to leave town, to leave her. What would she have done then? Who would she turn to? Certainly, not her mother. Eliza would have been all alone.

As it turned out, Rudy was a decent man and loved Eliza with his whole heart. He was willing to do whatever it took to support her and their unborn child. He wanted the three of them to be together, to start a new life in a new town where no one knew them. His cousin lived in Evertville, maybe he and Eliza could move there.

The couple made plans. A clean break from Walnut Creek. They didn't want the police looking too hard, or too far, for Eliza or Rudy. A suspicious drowning or a possible suicide seemed the easiest solution.

Eliza went to school that October day as usual. Rudy picked her up in the afternoon and they went to a burger place for takeout. These were all the usual things they normally did. They sat in Rudy's apartment and finalized their plan. They almost canceled because of the forecasted rainstorm, but then Rudy said it would actually be helpful. The rain would delay searchers and wash away footprints and evidence. And it did.

"My sister was involved," Eliza said, surprising Callie. "I had confided in Rose soon after I found out I was pregnant. She was always good to me and willing to help Robert and me get out of town. She met me outside the _Walnut Creek Bed and Breakfast_ that night. She brought my favorite jacket and the new backpack I'd bought and hidden in my bedroom. I'd stuffed it with a few new clothes I'd bought over the past week and my toothbrush and things like that.

"Rose and I hugged good-bye and then she walked home. I watched her leave, thinking I may never see her again. I almost changed my mind, but didn't. I had to do this.

"It was getting cold so I put my jacket on. Then I took my backpack and headed to the creek trails. I had two backpacks. One on each shoulder. One would be left behind on the creek bank and one I would keep.

"The rain was coming down by the time I got to the spot where Robert was waiting for me. I'll never forget him standing there with a penlight and the rain pelting his rain jacket. Until that moment, I wasn't sure if we were really going to go through with this … with the plan. I-I wasn't sure he would be there .. waiting for me." She looked at her husband, tender-eyed and ashamed.

He lifted his head and peered into her eyes. "I hate that you doubted me," he said softly. He breathed in deeply and straightened. Callie saw an inner strength surface. Robert wasn't a man who left the woman he loved. No, he was a man who stayed and protected her … and their child.

Eliza squeezed Robert's hand and said, "I hated that I doubted you. I never should have. You've never given me any reason to."

Callie and Frank exchanged glances and grins. It was nice to see a couple truly in love.

Eliza returned to her story. She told how she took off her shoes and jacket, laid them on the ground beside her school backpack and crouched over them. Robert handed her a pocket knife and she sliced her wrist. She let the blood drop onto her jacket and shoes. The couple figured the blood would make it appear like an attempted suicide or maybe even a homicide. They didn't care which one, either one deflect from the truth, the fact that Eliza and Robert were leaving town.

Eliza spent the next two nights at a friend's house. A friend of Robert's from the gas station where he worked. On the third day, Robert's cousin and his wife came and got Eliza. They took her to their home in Evertville. She stayed with them – Robert visiting on the weekends – until Robert skipped town and joined them.

The cousin's wife worked in a lawyer's office. She was able to get Eliza and Robert new social security cards and IDs. The story was that Eliza and Robert came from a different state and had lost everything in a house fire.

Eliza and Robert married at St. Paul's church the day she turned eighteen, six weeks after she went missing. Eliza's sister Rose came to the wedding. Eliza and Rose had kept in touch by phone, mainly text messages. But as the years marched by, their correspondence grew less frequent.

"Our lives became too busy," Eliza said with a heave of regret. "Now, I only hear from her on holidays and birthdays."

Callie laid down her pen. She had listened quietly and taken notes, but now, she had an important question. "Does your sister know you live here, so close to her house and your mother's house?"

Eliza bowed her head and stared at her hand still safely locked in Robert's rough one. Finally, she lifted her chin and Callie saw the sadness on Eliza's face. It was etched into every feature.

"No," Eliza said. "I never told Rose we moved here. I .. I had grand plans about telling her and then mom. It never happened. That was the whole reason for the move. I wanted to make amends. Reclaim my old relationships with my mom and sister. Then I started doubting the wisdom of revealing the truth. I-I thought I'd break my mother's heart. After all these years and her not knowing that we were just a few hours away in Evertville and then here. I asked myself, how would she take the news? Would she hate me even more?

Eliza picked at a loose thread on her apron, a small distraction to settle her emotions. "We've been so close. How could my mother ever forgive me for not telling her we were here, just miles away?" Eliza lifted her head and stared at Callie. "I don't know if I deserve forgiveness."

Frank spoke for the first time. "I think your mother would like to know. Callie and I visited her. It's clear she still loves you. The first thing she told us was that she had no problem with people looking into your disappearance. She said she welcomed it. I took that to mean she still wants to know what happened to you and that she might even hold out hope you're alive."

Eliza gave Frank a sad smile.

Frank leaned forward and gently added, "Your mother said the three of you – you, Rose, and her – were like three peas in a pod."

Eliza wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. "God, she used to say that all the time when Rose and I were little. I'd forgotten that."

"She hasn't forgotten you," Frank said. "And I'm confident she'd like to know that you're alive and well and that she has a granddaughter."

Callie saw Eliza squeeze Robert's hand.

"How could she ever forgive me for keeping that a secret?" Eliza asked Callie. "I don't know if she could ever forgive me for what I've done?"

"You'll never know until you tell her." Frank's voice was calm and reassuring. "The people you sometimes think are the least likely to forgive can often be the most forgiving." After a pause, he added, "What do you have to lose? Think about what you'll gain, a grandmother and aunt for your daughter. More people for her to love and get to know .."

Callie couldn't help herself, she interrupted, "Excuse me, but does your daughter know that her grandmother and aunt live nearby?"

Before Eliza could answer, the front door swung open and in walked a teenage girl. She was tall and lanky with long, dark hair that fell over the puffy shoulders of her winter jacket. As she pulled off the jacket and hung it on the coatrack, her dark eyes darted from her parents to Callie and Frank.

Eliza and Robert rose. Callie and Frank did the same. The teenager slowly walked into the living room. Confused contorted her features. Callie guessed it was rare for Isabelle's parents to have guests. For surely, this was Isabelle and she was beautiful just as Lillian Harper had said.

"Isabelle." Eliza reached out and enveloped her daughter in a brief hug. "I'm glad you're home."

Isabelle didn't react to the hug. She stood, arms at her sides, staring mutely at Callie and Frank. Robert stepped in and gave his daughter a quick, fierce hug. Then he searched her face as concern clouded his. His thick brow lowered and he shot Callie and Frank a hostile glance indicating their presence had disrupted his quiet little life which, indeed, it had.

Eliza said, "Isabelle, this is Mr. and Mrs. Hardy. Mrs. Hardy works for a newspaper."

Isabelle came out of her stupor and pointed a finger at the Hardys. "I know you. Both of you. You're the truth seekers."

Callie and Frank looked at each other. _Truth seekers_?

"I saw you," Isabelle explained, "at the white cross. You were there." She pointed at Callie. "You touched the flowers I'd put there."

"You?" It was Eliza who spoke, her voice sharp, a note of alarm sounding loud and clear. She spun Isabelle toward her. "You put flowers on the white cross? How do you even know about the white cross?" The questions came rapid fire and with an edge of accusation.

Isabelle shrugged off her mother's hands and stepped back. Anger flushed her cheeks. "I know everything mother. I've known for a long time." The words were laced with rancor and heat. She looked at her father standing there, grief and fear settling over his weather lined face. Then back at her mother. "I know all your secrets. Yours and dads. I know how you both disappeared because of me, because you were pregnant and didn't want anyone to know. You've hidden me away. You've kept me from a grandmother I've never gotten to meet." The last sentence was said with particular ire.

Eliza gasped and her jaw dropped. She put a helpless hand to her chest. Callie could see that the woman had never imagined this scenario. Never fathomed this was possible. Never thought her daughter would discover the truth and respond with anger.

The air in the room was electric. Hidden emotions were bubbling up, threatening to change the course of lives. Callie had to stop it. She couldn't bear to see this family torn apart. It was her fervent wish to bring them together. All of them, Blanche, Rose, and Eliza. These three women needed to be made whole again.

Callie touched Isabelle's arm. "Isabelle, please, I have a question for you."

The teenager's eyes widened in surprise. "How do you know my name?"

"I met a friend of yours. Mrs. Lillian Harper," Callie said. "She and I had a lovely chat a few afternoons ago. She sends you her love and said to let you know that she misses you terribly."

"I-I miss her, too," Isabelle stammered.

"My question is," Callie said, knowing she had to tread carefully, "are you the ghost that has been haunting Walnut Creek?"

All eyes in the room focused on Isabelle. The teen scanned each person's face trying to read their mind. Callie saw the teen considering her answer, wondering what the best thing to say was. Callie, and everyone in the room, needed the truth. Lies had gotten everyone to this point, a point where a grandmother had not seen her daughter for fifteen years and had no idea she had a granddaughter.

Callie spoke gently to Isabelle, "I think it's time for the truth. Your mother invited me here today because she wants the truth to be told. She's given me permission to write an article for the newspaper telling the truth about what happened fifteen years ago."

Isabelle's gaze cut to her mother. "Good. That's all I ever wanted. The truth. My story .. well, it's .. well, _I'm_ part of _their_ story." Isabelle waved a hand at her parents. "Their story is my story. I want it told." Her eyes met her mother's teary ones. "It's time mother. I'm glad we agree."

Eliza nodded and embraced Isabelle. This time, Isabelle hugged her mother back wholeheartedly. Callie breathed a sigh of relief. Crisis averted.

The group soon found themselves seated again. Frank and Callie in the chairs; Eliza, Robert, and Isabelle on the couch. It was time for Isabelle's story.

Yes, she was the ghost. She had been 'haunting' Walnut Creek for the past eighteen months. The idea had come to her shortly after she and her parents moved to Walnut Creek. Her hope had been to stir up interest in her mother's disappearance and get the case reopened. That way the truth could come out.

"How did you know I was Elizabeth Lancaster?" Eliza asked her daughter.

A blush of embarrassment colored Isabelle's cheeks. "I listened at your bedroom door when you and dad went to bed at night."

Eliza appeared horrified – as did Robert – but both held their tongues. Now was not the time for recriminations.

"Some nights you guys weren't exactly quiet," Isabelle said as a way to defend herself. "And I only did it after you guys started talking about moving. Neither of you would ever give me a good reason for why we were suddenly moving. You were forcing me to leave all my friends and Mrs. Harper. I kept asking you to wait until after I graduated high school. I told you I'd be happy to move then."

Eliza nodded her heard clearly remembering those discussions.

"So, I decided to listen at your door. I wanted to find out the real reason we were moving. I heard you and dad talking about the past, about what you'd done. How you'd left Walnut Creek because you were pregnant."

"I'm sorry," Eliza said her voice barely a whisper. "I'm sorry you had to find out that way. That's not how I hoped to tell you."

"It's okay," Isabelle said with no malice. "It's not the worst thing a person can find out about her parents." She shrugged and then became somber. "Mom, I heard you talking about your mother and sister and realized I had a grandmother and aunt you'd never told me about. That made me kinda mad. There was family out there that I'd never known about. I wondered what else you'd hidden from me. What else didn't I know? I wondered how you could do that to me. Keep me in the dark and keep me cut off from my family. Then, I realized, you'd also done it to yourself. You had cut us all off from family. From _your_ family."

Isabelle looked at her father. "Not yours though. Your family must know the secret."

It was a pointed remark and Robert responded. "Yes, my family has always known about our past. They helped your mother and me move away and start a new life with new names."

Isabelle mulled that over for a second before saying, "So my last name isn't Newbern. It's Glynn?"

Robert looked miserable as he nodded. "Yes, it's Glynn."

"How do you know all of this?" Eliza asked.

"Old newspapers at the library. All those times I borrowed the truck to go to the library to do research for school reports, well, I wasn't just doing schoolwork. I was doing research on you and dad, too. The story of your disappearance was in the papers for months. Elizabeth Lancaster and Rudy Glynn. You guys were the talk of the town." Isabelle's expression said it was the simplest thing in the world. Read a newspaper and learn the facts.

Isabelle went on to admit that – since their move to Walnut Creek – she had been sneaking out of the house late at night and using the truck. She took a lantern from the barn and put it in the truck with an old white nightgown. These were the props for her midnight run along the creek.

Frank asked, "What about the shrieking? How did you make that gawd-awful noise?"

Isabelle cocked her head and grinned at Frank. "I Googled 'shrieking' and found a Youtube video. I played it on my phone when I neared the _Bed and Breakfast_. I wanted to wake people up. I wanted them to look out their windows and see me. It didn't make any sense for me to run through the night if nobody saw me."

Frank smiled, as did Callie.

Isabelle turned to her parents. They sat at one end of the couch and she sat at the other. Isabelle clasped her hands together in her lap, drew in a deep breath, and let it out slowly. "Since I'm confessing all of my sins, I have one more to tell," she said.

Eliza and Robert held hands and traded worried looks. What more could their daughter possibly confess?

"I've seen grandmother. I've been to her house," Isabelle said.

Eliza and Robert were stunned. They sat mute for a full ten seconds.

Finally, Eliza found her voice. "Wh-what are you saying? Have you talked to my mom? Does she know who you are?"

Isabelle held up her hands. "No, no, no. Sorry, that's not what I meant. What I meant was, I've snuck around her house. I've peeked over her fence. I wore the white nightgown so if she saw me she'd think I was the ghost."

Eliza shook her head to clear her mind. "How in the world did you find out her name and address?"

Isabelle gawked at her mother. "Her name was in the old newspapers along with your sister's. Blanche and Rose Lancaster. All I had to do was search the internet. You can find almost anybody on the internet. Grandma was easy to find. She's never moved. She lives in the same house she lived in when you lived with her."

"You are quite the little sleuth," Eliza said, her tone sharp and slightly disapproving.

Callie sensed it was time to leave. Eliza and Robert needed time alone with their daughter to discuss everything they had learned today.

Callie and Frank rose, expressed their gratitude for the visit, and wished the family well on reuniting.

Eliza walked Callie and Frank to the door while Robert stayed behind with Isabelle.

On the porch, Eliza said, "I'm going to call my sister this evening and make arrangements to meet my mother. I think it's best if Rose breaks the ice. I'll let her tell mom that I'm alive. If I called out of the blue, mom might have a heart attack."

"Heavens," Callie said, "that would be awful. However, I agree, it's best to go gently. Ease your mother into the news. I know she will be overjoyed to learn that you're alive and well and have a wonderful husband and daughter." Callie laid a hand on Eliza's arm. "Please, let me know how the reunion goes."

Eliza nodded and pressed a hand on top of Callie's. "I will. You can write an article about it. Call it the Family Reunion Fifteen Years Later. That would make a nice story, wouldn't it?"

Callie smiled. "It'll make a wonderful story and would be perfect for the Christmas edition of the paper."

Callie left the Newbern's home with two articles waiting to be written. She was sure Mr. Calabrese would be ecstatic when he heard the news. What had started as a fluff piece for Halloween had grown into a series of articles. Now Callie had the resolution to the ghost story and the solution to a decades old disappearance. Not to mention, the final family reunion story. Callie's future as an investigative journalist was looking brighter.

That evening, Callie and Frank celebrated by going to the expensive restaurant, the _Chalet_. The food and atmosphere was just as intimate and relaxing as the first time they had dined there. Callie floated back to the _Bed and Breakfast_. Two glasses of wine had that effect on her.

Frank started the gas fire and Callie turned down the bed. The couple indulged in each other. It was like a second honeymoon. Clothes dropped to the floor and kisses lingered. Callie and Frank took their time, delighting in the touch and taste of one another. It was well after midnight before Callie and Frank gave into sleep, both sated and fulfilled.

# # # #

One week later, Callie was in the kitchen putting away the remains of lunch when Eliza called. Eva was playing in the living room near the Christmas tree. Callie could hear Eva talking to her dolls. Mostly gibberish at this stage.

Callie put her phone on speaker and listened to Eliza. Eliza said her mother had taken the news she was alive in stride. Oh, there had been a bit of admonishment, but it hadn't lasted long. Blanche even accepted some of the blame for Liz and Rudy (she refused to call them by their new names) running off. Blanche admitted she had said things in the past that she regretted and acknowledged she would not have taken the news of the pregnancy well. She would have tried to drive a wedge between Liz and Rudy and probably would have succeeded in driving Liz and Rudy away. Something they did on their own before she had the chance.

But now? Now, she was all for forgiving and forgetting. The past was the past and should stay there. Gone and forgotten, she said. Blanche had a granddaughter to get to know as well as a son-in-law.

Yes, Blanche was warming to Robert, Eliza said with relief and delight.

Callie was happy for Eliza and her family and told her so. "I'll send you my article on your family reunion as soon as I finish it so you can proof it. I may need to call you for more information. I hope that's okay."

"Of course," Eliza said. "I feel so relieved and blessed that my life is back on track. I sort of floundered for seventeen years. Oh, don't get me wrong, I had a good life and Robert and I were, and are, deeply in love. It's just that .. well, I missed my mother and sister. We were _three peas in a pod_. I guess the old saying is true, you don't know what you have until it's gone. I didn't know how much I missed my mom and sister until I had them back in my life."

Callie dried her hands on a towel and picked up her phone. "I'm glad you all are back together and I think you all have something very special that few people have. You have a true appreciation for one another because of what you've been through. Hold on to that special love and nurture it."

"I love how you said that." Callie could hear the emotion in Eliza's voice. "You have a special way with words, Callie."

Callie chuckled as she peeked into the living room to check on Eva. "Well, I'm a writer. Words are my life."

Callie thanked Eliza for the call and wished her a Merry Christmas. It was nice to know that things were going well for Eliza and her family. Family was so important especially, at this time of year. Christmas was only two weeks away.

Callie laid her phone on the dining room table and joined Eva in the living room. She sat on the carpet and ran a hand lightly over her daughter's soft, dark hair. "I love you, little one."

# # # #

Christmas Eve. Callie's _Family Reunion_ article was the lead story in the Evertville and Walnut Creek newspapers. Every article Callie had written about Elizabeth Lancaster and her family had met with success. People begged for more news on the family and their story. Mr. Calabrese had given Callie a raise and told her, "Anything you want, or need, for your next story, just ask. It's yours! Anything at all."

Callie had laughed. She didn't know what she wanted or needed. The whim of fate would lead her to her next story. For now, she was going to enjoy the Christmas break. Frank was home this week and at the moment, he was sitting in the easy chair in the living room with Eva on his lap. She was fresh and clean from a bath, her hair a damp halo around her head. She wore her favorite pajamas, the ones with the pink lambs. Frank was reading '_Twas the Night Before Christmas_' and Eva listened with rapt attention.

Callie carried two mugs of spiced wine into the living room and set them on the coffee table. A treat for her and Frank once Eva was in bed.

Frank read the last line of the book, "Happy Christmas to all and to all, a good night." He closed the book and kissed the top of Eva's head. "It's bedtime, Sweetie."

"No," Eva whined and rubbed her eyes. "Mo, dada. Mo."

Frank handed the book to Callie and stood up, Eva in his arms. "Now, now. It's time for bed. You're sleepy. You can barely keep your eyes open."

Callie put the book away on a shelf while Frank patted the back of a sleepy Eva. Sleepy but not quite ready for bed.

"Mo dada. Peas."

"I don't know," Frank said and looked over at Callie. "We'll have to see what mommy says."

Eva stretched her little arms toward Callie and the bookshelf. "Mama. Peas, mama."

Callie's heart leaped for joy. "Frank, did you hear that? She called me mama!"

Frank laughed. He knew how much Callie longed to hear Eva say mama. Time to encourage the little darling. "Mama," he said to Eva. "That's right. You have to ask _mama_ if we can read another book."

"Mama, peas."

Who could resist that precious angel? And those sweet words? How could Callie say no? And why would she want to?

"Of course, you can hear another story." Callie smiled tenderly at Frank. "It's Christmas Eve, Frank. That only comes once a year. One more story won't hurt." She kissed Eva on the cheek and ruffled her hair. "Then it's bedtime, little one."

# # # #

Callie rose on tip-toes, wrapped her arms around Frank's neck and kissed him. She tasted the spiced wine and smelled his cologne, unmistakably masculine. Unmistakably Frank Hardy. Unmistakably her husband.

She broke the kiss and drew back her head. "Merry Christmas, Sweetheart."

Frank glanced at the bedside clock, saw that it was a minute past midnight, and returned his focus to his beautiful wife nestled in his arms. "So it is. I hope all your wishes come true today."

"They already have." Callie ran a hand along the strong line of Frank's jaw.

He frowned. "They have?"

"Yes. I have the man I love in my arms and my daughter called me mama tonight. I'm the happiest woman in the world. How about you?"

"I'm married to the woman of my dreams and I have the cutest daughter ever. Life doesn't get any better than that."

"We're two of the lucky ones," Callie said and meant it with all of her heart.

Then End

* * *

_A/N: I must apologize for the long delays in posting. My original thought was to start posting this story in October and finish by December. Clearly, that did not work out. LOL But in spite of my neglect, many of you left me wonderful reviews and I'm very thankful for you and your kind words. I think many of you probably guessed the solution to this mystery, but I hope you still found the ending satisfying. Thank you all again!_

_P.S. I have another story in the works. It's set in the same universe as "Shadow Games" and features F,N,J, & V. However, this next story will focus more on F&N's relationship._

_Take care everyone, Jilsen_


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